Bob’s Blog

I just read Rick Reilly’s latest column in Sports Illustrated, about Tiger Woods and his father, Earl, who recently passed away.

Father-son stories always make me cry, and this one was no different. I have written extensively about my own father in the newspaper and the response I always get is fulfilling. My dad was one of the best men I have ever known.

I was really not much like my dad, which I regret sometimes. He was kind, caring and quite skilled at a variety of things. Not that I’m not kind and caring _ I certainly can be. But I’m much more cynical and sarcastic than my dad. Which is OK, I guess.

Anyway, Reilly’s column made me think about my own son, Jeff, who is 23. A part of the column reminded me that I haven’t hugged Jeff in quite a while (he will be so embarrassed when he reads this). We have not quite reached that point in our father-son relationship in which he becomes my friend, as well as my kid. I really look forward to that day, because Jeff is one of the funniest people I know. I have all kinds of pictures of him down in my basement, where I’m writing this, and he smiled in every one of them. He is just a kid who knows how to have a good time.

And sometimes I lose sight of that. I want him to be more intense, more focused, more interested in building his future. But when I really think about it, I don’t want him to lose his playful nature. Now, I’m not saying I don’t want him to be intense, focused and interested in his future, because I do. But I also want Jeff to know that he’s my pride and joy.

In case you’re wondering, I’ll tell him this in person, probably before he reads this. And I’m not in the habit of sharing such personal stuff on a blog. But this time, it’s OK.