Father's day is right around the corner, and I think it's important to note my dad's contribution to my own football knowledge. Mostly, I have come to understand that football means yelling a lot.
Not that there's anything wrong with that. I mean, I think that you shouldn't start shouting if your team is up 58-7 midway through the third, and the opposing team manages to close the gap to 58-10. That's where dad and I disagree.
But football is an aggressive sport and it deserves loud, aggressive fans. And that is where dad has always had it right. I've been a geek longer than a football fan, and as such, my social circle doesn't revolve around sports. This is a shame because it's not fun to get angry at the TV alone. This is why I like watching a game with dad: while I sometimes question his choice of targets, his spirit is and always has been in the right place.
Some of the most fun I've had in my entire life was heckling visiting teams at Rentschler last year, yelling myself hoarse at the Colonial's touchdowns and booing the miscues. It's a vocal game. Thanks, dad, for instilling that in me.
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