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My Story: Taking Dad to his first Dallas Cowboys game

Updated Mar. 4, 2020 9:22 p.m. ET

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The story of when I took my dad to his first Dallas Cowboys Pro NFL game after spending 41 years in America as a die hard fan.

Sep 11, 2016; Arlington, TX, USA; The New York Giants huddle in the fourth quarter against the Dallas Cowboys at AT&T Stadium. Mandatory Credit: Erich Schlegel-USA TODAY Sports

In the car, my sister reminded herself out loud to download Google Maps on her iPhone. Dad takes this opportunity to talk about how in the old days he used paper maps, the kind you buy in gas stations and fold into your vehicle glove box.

As I drove through the City of Dallas, he goes on about how he used to navigate the roads, how technology had changed things and how people don’t use pay phones any longer.

He was interrupted by the female Google voice on my iPhone, which was directing us towards our hotel in Farmers Branch, just twenty minutes from Dallas Love Field Airport.

Dad, who is a few years away from retirement, leaned in from the passenger side to get a little closer to my ear. After the Google Maps was finished with the announcement, Dad asked me if the Google lady talking to us was really guiding us from above.

I didn’t know how to respond.

*

Dad has been a Dallas Cowboys fan since 1975. He arrived in the United States 41 years ago. He fought in the Vietnam War alongside American soldiers against the North Communist Party. An avid fan living in Chicago Bears territory, he has never been to a professional football game, let alone a Cowboys game.

When I waited at his airport gate, he walked through the plane tunnel wearing an army colored looking backpack. He had the smile of young man and the energy of a college student. Wearing a white hat and a navy Cowboys polo shirt with a large star on his breast, we took a photograph together at the airport.

I sent the photo to my nineteen-year-old niece. She took note of his Nike shoes, which was similar to the style she owned. She said he had more swagger than I did and that I had worn old man shoes. I agreed.

Nov 26, 2015; Arlington, TX, USA; A view of the stadium and fans before the game between the Dallas Cowboys and the Carolina Panthers on Thanksgiving at AT&T Stadium. Mandatory Credit: Jerome Miron-USA TODAY Sports

Midway through our trip to visit America’s Team, I swiped through some photos on my phone. I noticed I had a bigger build than Dad. Time shrunk him. Though he has gotten older, he always seems to have a backup battery generator that got him through activities.

When I looked at photos of Dad on the Dallas Cowboys field at AT&T Stadium, he had often posed with one knee on the ground with his fingers running through the turf. Dad smiled big each time. Maybe he couldn’t believe he was actually there. He was happy. He was home.

*

Winning the lottery is something Dad talks about a lot. Ever since I was little, I listened as he spoke about what he’d do if he had the money to do this or that. He mentioned the big houses he wanted and the big car garages that came with them.

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When the Cowboys and Giants players were warming up prior to the game, Dad talked about winning the lottery again. As we watched quarterback Eli Manning warm up with wide receiver Odell Beckham Jr., he pointed over towards the premium box seats just across the stadium. If he had the lottery winnings, he said, he would buy season tickets for the family. We’d attend every game. Together.

He also talked about buying a house for each of his kids. The homes would be next to each other. I realized Dad’s lottery dream wasn’t about the cash or the material things that go with it. Dad’s version of winning the lottery is being closer to his kids.

*

One week ago I was in Costa Rica with my niece. One night, she had a lot of things on her mind. We talked about her school and the life she was living as a college student. We exchanged family memories with lots of laughs. This was when she pulled out a bad memory I had archived deep down inside.

The story goes like this: My younger brother and Dad had a fight. The cause of the fight wasn’t a big deal, but emotions ran high. My brother, the youngest of the four, walked away with the resolution that he would move out. He was the last child living in the house with Dad. I knew this story well, but as my niece explained it to me it felt like watching an old DVD again.

Realizing that he was going to be alone without any kids in the house, Dad jumped into his car. He hopped on the highway. He drove until the city buildings were in his rear view mirror and landscape changed to farm land. After a short drive, he reached his destination. It was a rest area stop he used to take his kids to.

Dad parked the car. He cried.

Oct 5, 2014; Arlington, TX, USA; Dallas Cowboys young fans cheer for their team during the game against the Houston Texans at AT&T Stadium. Mandatory Credit: Matthew Emmons-USA TODAY Sports

I was a needy child. When Dad worked the third shift, I dialed his worked number often, telling the man who picked up the phone to get my father on the line. Dad would come to the phone after a few minutes. And I would tell him about my day and asked him when he was coming home. He never once told me to not call him.

My Mom says I was a hard kid to raise. I was picky about my food. I wouldn’t go to the bathroom unless Dad was home. Dad said I was needy too. I heard that after I was born, he wouldn’t let the doctors take me away.

Dad and I are two different people. He is the type of person you invite to have a beer with. I’m the friend you get coffee with. Dad says what is on his mind. I think about my sentences before I say them. Dad lives in the spotlight; I avoid it.

Besides the love for the Dallas Cowboys, Dad and I share a fondness for the road. He noted how when I was little, I would always sit in the passenger seat during our road trip vacations. I can’t sleep in cars or airplanes. I was the perfect wing boy — helping keep the pilot’s mind busy.

But in Dallas I was driving. Dad thought it was funny; he told me that one day soon my kid would be driving me around.

*

Dad doesn’t talk about the war much. When I was a kid, I used to ask about his bullet wounds a lot. He didn’t say much. As I got older, I stopped asking him about his war days. But sometimes he’ll bring up the memories here and there.

As we headed towards lunch, the topic of conversation turned from Terrence Williams’ catch and clock error — which cost the Cowboys a season opener win against the Giants — to his war days. He talked about how he played football with American soldiers. The teams were separated by white and black shirts.

His teammates would tell him to run to a point on the field, turn around and catch the ball and run. Dad scored over and over until the soldiers grew angry. The six-foot men couldn’t touch the young 20-year-old star who just learned how to play American Football.

As I played the memory back in my head, I imagined Dad as wide receiver Cole Beasley. Both men were the small guys on the field who had the escape skills to evade larger bodies.

I learned that it was the American soldiers who introduced football to Dad. Without them, Dad wouldn’t have been able to teach me football.

Sep 11, 2016; Arlington, TX, USA; The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders perform during the game between the Dallas Cowboys and the New York Giants at AT&T Stadium. Mandatory Credit: Erich Schlegel-USA TODAY Sports

Dad was sad when we dropped off my sister, niece and nephew. He told me he was happy they surprised him last-minute at the airport. He said his heart stopped when he opened the car passenger door and saw their faces. He said he wishes he had more time with them.

When I drove Dad around town, he recalled all the things we did. He was disappointed that his first NFL game turned out to be a one-point loss to a division rival. In the car, he ticked off the list of activities he had done with his kids and grandkids. My girlfriend in the back seat swiped through his phone to make sure he saved all the photos we sent him via SMS text messages.

Then he grew quiet. Once again he asked me if the Google lady was really watching us from above. This time I explained that it was cell towers bouncing my cellular signal around to lock in our location. I gave Dad a quick side-glance. He was looking out the window towards the sky as if someone was watching him from above.

On our way towards the airport to return the rental car, we stopped at a traffic light. We talked about going our separate ways soon in separate cities. Dad said he was thankful for the trip. He said he couldn’t forgive Jason Garrett for the loss. We talked about how kicker Dan Bailey would have nailed the sixty or so yard field goal if he was given the opportunity.

When I looked over at Dad again I could see a slight smile on his face. At the moment I realized he spent decades driving me around and now that the roles were switched, he was the one looking out the window enjoying the views.

It was a short trip, but we did a lot of things, he said. I nodded. I imagined he was replaying the entire trip over in his head during the red light. He looked happy. Dad looked like someone who had just won the lottery.

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