From my earliest memories I have always shared many things with my dad, good and bad. My raunchy sense of humor, my nickname, my short temper, my penchant for wearing my emotions on my sleeve. My skin color, my anxiety, my alarming frequency of bowel movements, my accepting spirit of all people....to name a few. But of the many things my dad and I shared, one of our first mutual loves was Duquense basketball. As a young boy I heard countless stories of championships and great rivalries. I heard the tales of Dick Ricketts, Sihugo Green, and legendary coaches Chick Davies, Dudey Moore, and Red Manning. He often shared memories of the old Duquesne Gardens and of the magical season of 1955. To put it mildly, I was born a fan of the Duquesne Dukes.
On gamedays I would spread out on the dining room floor in front of the radio (in my younger days with a bowl of ice cream and in later years with homework) and listen to every away game on the airwaves with pops. He would guzzle martinis as I would quietly mark the days on the calendar when they would be playing their next home game, all while hanging on every Ray Goss word. See...me and pops both had hopes of one day sharing together the Dukes return to glory. We both would be there to see the Dukes once again be the toast of the town. To hoist championship banners and to give me the vivid memories and stories to pass on to my own children, his grandkids. Almost as importantly, we would share in the tumultuous demise of those hated Pitt Panthers!
On those special frigid winter nights when the Dukes were in town, he would bundle up my feeble frame and toss me into his Ford Pinto, or Escort, or Dodge Neon and cruise down the parkway east at a bawdy 35 mph. At first it was games at the Arena and then later it was our two seats at the Palumbo. And they were indeed our two seats (even when I was the star Dukes ball boy those were still our seats)! We would laugh and cheer, and often suffer with our Dukes. Sometimes my other brother would come. But most of the time it was just me and pops. I would hear Pops swear at the refs and I would swear too (although we wouldn't tell mom!). We would talk to Mr. Shubert next to us about, well, just about anything. More often than not we would both leave mad, but win or lose we always kept with our Dukes.
When the games were over it got even better (since most of the time they lost). We would take the long way home through Oakland. We would head right to Primanti's to see my hero at the time, my older brother Nicky. Pops would have a beer (to chase down the pre-game gin). I would have a Dr. Pepper, ham and cheese fries only, with some extra fries on the side. Everytime. We would stay for about an hour and shoot the breeze. I would find out years later that we would also undoubtedly mess up Nicky to the fullest with whatever young co-eds he and Jerome were scheming on! But that was ok and probably for the better!!! It was a great time for me and pops. When I got to high school he would even let me have a couple of sips of his beer. We always came home with a smile on our face! And no matter how much we argued, or fought, or bickered, it was all suspended for a Dukes game. It was just us, the game, a couple of guys being guys, and a cold winter night. For a brief couple of hours, we would just be together, willing on a common goal. This of course being a Dukes win!
When I got to college things changed. I was a Duquesne student. Students wouldn't dare to be caught at a Dukes game. There were a million better things to do. Hang out with buds, get nuts, try to find some girls (quite an anomoly in years previous). The Dukes were the laughing stock of the college basketball world, and clearly the university too. We were drawing about 5 people a game. Students (including my best friend and roommate) would make fun of "those dorks" who attended games. But I never once stopped going because of Pops. The two of us would meet and it was as if I was 8 years old again. We would sit in our seats and everything was ok with the world. We were best friends, not father and son. We would cheer, but mostly yell, we would laugh, but mostly.....well, yell. It was a few hours out of the week, on a cold night, that we would be able to get away from it all. The only problems we had at all were the horrible officiating and the ridiculous lack of talent on the team!
A couple of weeks ago, with my dad in better spirits from the sickness that had been keeping him down, I picked up Pops at his house and made sure HE was bundled up! We got his oxygen tank ready and he made sure that I dropped him off really close so he didn't have to walk far. We sat in Our Seats. We didn't talk about life, or what was wrong with me, or what was wrong with him. We didn't talk politics, or family issues, we just were together. It was just us (with a couple of great friends I might add). We were a couple of guys being guys, on one of those frigid winter nights that he really couldn't handle anymore. The Dukes lost, we swore at the refs, we went home happy just to be together.
My dad checked into the hospital early on Sunday morning. He had been in surgery earlier in the week but was supposed to be ok. We had made plans to see our Dukes play a huge game against Rhode Island that Sunday. Our Dukes had given us a glimmer of hope. We were going to celebrate their return to glory together. He was excited and nervous. So was I. As I walked into his room decked out in my Dukes gear, I was told he would be in for a couple of days and he would be alright. As I looked at him, I knew he wouldn't be. It was the first time in my life that I could see that my other hero was fallible, that he was very afraid. I looked at him and I could see death staring him in the face. I was afraid too. I didn't know what to say. It felt like we had both been in a big fight. Me for my dad. Him for his life. I, just as verbose as he, was speechless. So I talked about the Dukes. He asked if they were on t.v. and I told him I didn't know but that we were going to the game so it didn't matter!!! He normally would have smiled or laughed at that but he didn't. He said that this was a big game and I told him that we would go wednesday if he got out of the hospital and that I would give him updates of everything that happened. I told him that I loved him and that I would see him tomorrow. He said in typical pops fashion "me too, man." I had a very strange feeling that that was the last time I would see pops. My mother would talk to him later that night, and one of the first things out of his mouth was a brief lament about the Dukes loss!
On Monday morning I got the call to come to the hospital. Pops was in bad shape but they wouldn't tell us what or why. When I got to the hospital I was told that my dad was in a coma and had died for at least ten minutes. I was again speechless. And as he layed in his hospital, in what the doctors called a vegetative state, I knew he was still with me. I held his hand as he used to hold mine when we would walk to the arena or through oakland. I kissed him on the forehead as he used to kiss me goodnight. I talked to him by myself, and told him that I loved him and how much he meant to me. How all of our problems seemed so silly now and what a great friend he was to me-and a great father too! I told him as tears ran down my cheek, as they are flowing freely now, that he will always be with me and I will always be with him. How I would do anything to have him back to go to one Dukes game or cook me one macaroni and cheese dinner or tell me one more of his Uncle Phil and L.A. stories. I told him to wake up because going to the games would not be the same without you. When he passed this evening I realized that the games, our family, my life, or anything from now on would never be the same.
I love you so much dad. I wish I could bring you back and have just one more night with you. We would go to the game, see Nicky, have a beer and a sandwich, and realize that we weren't just father and son....that we have always been best friends. May you rest in peace and hey...throw some luck our Dukes way!
I love you, tat!
On gamedays I would spread out on the dining room floor in front of the radio (in my younger days with a bowl of ice cream and in later years with homework) and listen to every away game on the airwaves with pops. He would guzzle martinis as I would quietly mark the days on the calendar when they would be playing their next home game, all while hanging on every Ray Goss word. See...me and pops both had hopes of one day sharing together the Dukes return to glory. We both would be there to see the Dukes once again be the toast of the town. To hoist championship banners and to give me the vivid memories and stories to pass on to my own children, his grandkids. Almost as importantly, we would share in the tumultuous demise of those hated Pitt Panthers!
On those special frigid winter nights when the Dukes were in town, he would bundle up my feeble frame and toss me into his Ford Pinto, or Escort, or Dodge Neon and cruise down the parkway east at a bawdy 35 mph. At first it was games at the Arena and then later it was our two seats at the Palumbo. And they were indeed our two seats (even when I was the star Dukes ball boy those were still our seats)! We would laugh and cheer, and often suffer with our Dukes. Sometimes my other brother would come. But most of the time it was just me and pops. I would hear Pops swear at the refs and I would swear too (although we wouldn't tell mom!). We would talk to Mr. Shubert next to us about, well, just about anything. More often than not we would both leave mad, but win or lose we always kept with our Dukes.
When the games were over it got even better (since most of the time they lost). We would take the long way home through Oakland. We would head right to Primanti's to see my hero at the time, my older brother Nicky. Pops would have a beer (to chase down the pre-game gin). I would have a Dr. Pepper, ham and cheese fries only, with some extra fries on the side. Everytime. We would stay for about an hour and shoot the breeze. I would find out years later that we would also undoubtedly mess up Nicky to the fullest with whatever young co-eds he and Jerome were scheming on! But that was ok and probably for the better!!! It was a great time for me and pops. When I got to high school he would even let me have a couple of sips of his beer. We always came home with a smile on our face! And no matter how much we argued, or fought, or bickered, it was all suspended for a Dukes game. It was just us, the game, a couple of guys being guys, and a cold winter night. For a brief couple of hours, we would just be together, willing on a common goal. This of course being a Dukes win!
When I got to college things changed. I was a Duquesne student. Students wouldn't dare to be caught at a Dukes game. There were a million better things to do. Hang out with buds, get nuts, try to find some girls (quite an anomoly in years previous). The Dukes were the laughing stock of the college basketball world, and clearly the university too. We were drawing about 5 people a game. Students (including my best friend and roommate) would make fun of "those dorks" who attended games. But I never once stopped going because of Pops. The two of us would meet and it was as if I was 8 years old again. We would sit in our seats and everything was ok with the world. We were best friends, not father and son. We would cheer, but mostly yell, we would laugh, but mostly.....well, yell. It was a few hours out of the week, on a cold night, that we would be able to get away from it all. The only problems we had at all were the horrible officiating and the ridiculous lack of talent on the team!
A couple of weeks ago, with my dad in better spirits from the sickness that had been keeping him down, I picked up Pops at his house and made sure HE was bundled up! We got his oxygen tank ready and he made sure that I dropped him off really close so he didn't have to walk far. We sat in Our Seats. We didn't talk about life, or what was wrong with me, or what was wrong with him. We didn't talk politics, or family issues, we just were together. It was just us (with a couple of great friends I might add). We were a couple of guys being guys, on one of those frigid winter nights that he really couldn't handle anymore. The Dukes lost, we swore at the refs, we went home happy just to be together.
My dad checked into the hospital early on Sunday morning. He had been in surgery earlier in the week but was supposed to be ok. We had made plans to see our Dukes play a huge game against Rhode Island that Sunday. Our Dukes had given us a glimmer of hope. We were going to celebrate their return to glory together. He was excited and nervous. So was I. As I walked into his room decked out in my Dukes gear, I was told he would be in for a couple of days and he would be alright. As I looked at him, I knew he wouldn't be. It was the first time in my life that I could see that my other hero was fallible, that he was very afraid. I looked at him and I could see death staring him in the face. I was afraid too. I didn't know what to say. It felt like we had both been in a big fight. Me for my dad. Him for his life. I, just as verbose as he, was speechless. So I talked about the Dukes. He asked if they were on t.v. and I told him I didn't know but that we were going to the game so it didn't matter!!! He normally would have smiled or laughed at that but he didn't. He said that this was a big game and I told him that we would go wednesday if he got out of the hospital and that I would give him updates of everything that happened. I told him that I loved him and that I would see him tomorrow. He said in typical pops fashion "me too, man." I had a very strange feeling that that was the last time I would see pops. My mother would talk to him later that night, and one of the first things out of his mouth was a brief lament about the Dukes loss!
On Monday morning I got the call to come to the hospital. Pops was in bad shape but they wouldn't tell us what or why. When I got to the hospital I was told that my dad was in a coma and had died for at least ten minutes. I was again speechless. And as he layed in his hospital, in what the doctors called a vegetative state, I knew he was still with me. I held his hand as he used to hold mine when we would walk to the arena or through oakland. I kissed him on the forehead as he used to kiss me goodnight. I talked to him by myself, and told him that I loved him and how much he meant to me. How all of our problems seemed so silly now and what a great friend he was to me-and a great father too! I told him as tears ran down my cheek, as they are flowing freely now, that he will always be with me and I will always be with him. How I would do anything to have him back to go to one Dukes game or cook me one macaroni and cheese dinner or tell me one more of his Uncle Phil and L.A. stories. I told him to wake up because going to the games would not be the same without you. When he passed this evening I realized that the games, our family, my life, or anything from now on would never be the same.
I love you so much dad. I wish I could bring you back and have just one more night with you. We would go to the game, see Nicky, have a beer and a sandwich, and realize that we weren't just father and son....that we have always been best friends. May you rest in peace and hey...throw some luck our Dukes way!
I love you, tat!
