My Turn, Dad

Foundation: the support on which something rests.

My two best friends are in the home building business. I am sure they could come up with a spot on definition of the word foundation, which materials are needed to build the strongest foundation, and what the rewards of a strong foundation can be.

Foundations hold more responsibility than keeping a house or building above ground. Their secondary purposes are to prevent moisture and cold from getting inside, providing stability against outside forces, and most importantly, withstanding the test of time. Apparently, the best type of foundation is made with steel beams and concrete. Every foundation is different. The style, the materials, and the dimensions.

So unless you are in the business or have a vested interest, you probably are more attracted to what rests on top of the foundation.

I am not in the home building business. When the time comes, I will happily call my friends to help me with that. But I do believe in the benefit of strong foundations.

My parents must believe in them too.

Being raised in a small town by a surgeon and a nurse certainly brings a level of expectation. I hope that I have fulfilled that to this point. My sister and I were fortunate enough to be raised through strong values and expectations. I think that we benefit from that today and probably do not thank our parents enough for it.

Growing Up

My dad is 65. Many of you know him as Doc. He had a great career as a surgeon in Oelwein and is recently retired. Now, he provides care through hospice services and as the county medical examiner, among other important obligations. Growing up, my dad cooked the best pasta, caught the coolest bugs, and threw the tightest spiral. Dad things, not Doc things. He sometimes reminds me that he wishes I would have watched him operate or work as a doctor, but for those that know me, I do not handle blood well at all. Dad tells me that with his skill, there usually wasn’t much blood. But back in the day, my social self preferred talking with the nurses or drinking a Dr. Pepper from the lounge while waiting for the Doc Leo whistle to let me know we could leave.

My guess is that early on it was apparent I would never be a doctor. My dad probably discovered he’d have to find a different way to connect with me. That connection came through sports. Iowa sports, in particular. The first level of foundation came from my grandfather on my dad’s side. He wrestled for Iowa in the 40’s. I never got the chance to meet him and I probably spend too much time thinking about what our encounters and relationship would be like if I had the chance.

The Little Things

Doc went through medical school at Iowa, establishing the second layer of foundation. The connection was formed through those two layers and passed down to me. My first ever Iowa game was in 2001. I was 3. Just destroyed Kent State. As I got older, I climbed the ladder and got to experience road trips. Michigan State in 2003. Arizona State in 2004 (yikes). Bowl trips. The list goes on. Interestingly enough, I don’t remember anything specific from the games. I just really remember being with Dad and going to the Hawk Huddles and never winning the door prizes. Playing catch behind the car for a bit. The little things. The early foundation.

Throughout elementary school, I understood that my weekends in the fall were busy. Friday nights I would go to the high school game with my friends, but usually had to leave at halftime so I could help Dad “pack the car”. Flag pole, coolers, grill. The table cloth. I could still hear the PA announcer from the stadium at my house down the road. I grew up in lot 43W. I’d let Dad get the table out and get set up. Usually I would hope he would hurry so we could start playing catch as the sun came up. I had the coolest black and gold football. My dad threw it well. Thankfully, he doesn’t blame me too much for the rotator cuff surgery he needed later in life.

2009

2009 was an incredible year. I was 11 at the time. The first true road trip of the year was at Penn State. Iowa had beaten PSU in 2008 on a last second field goal, ending their chance at a title game berth. They had revenge on the mind. It poured rain in Happy Valley. Night game, Musburger on the call. Whiteout. I was a pretty wide-eyed kid that day. Dad and I sat in the lower bowl with the Iowa fans, but right next to a railing that separated us from the PSU fans. Start of the game Penn State hit a bomb. TD. Hoo boy. Trouble. But I will never forget the sounds of Clayborn blocking that punt and the hush of the crowd after Iowa won. I won’t forget the victorious taste of the Skor bar and Dr. Pepper at that gas station on the way home.

A few weeks later at Michigan State. Stanzi to McNutt. Doc and I were in the opposite end zone. He used to tell me about his experience during the 1985 game winner against Michigan. He couldn’t watch the kick, he had his head in his hands and looked up right in time to see the kick go in. I thought I would try the same tactic. I never saw Stanzi throw it or McNutt catch it. All I remember is Dad grabbing me and we started yelling with all the other Iowa fans. The next level of foundation.

Changing My Tune

It’s amazing to think that despite my passion for sports, I wanted to be a meteorologist during my childhood. I know that with the certain level of expectation, maybe I let some people down when I switched to sports and broadcasting. My mother sometimes jokes about my addiction to sports. Probably my dad’s fault. But I hope that in a way, I have been able to give back to both of them over these past couple of years.

I was fortunate enough to be given the opportunity to broadcast Iowa Hawkeye athletics for a few years. Words cannot describe what that meant to me. I am guessing my dad might share those feelings as well. This year as Sports Director, I took responsibility for providing coverage of Iowa football and basketball, including road games and postseason play. My role was different than it had been. I was no longer a fan. I had a professional element. Dad and I still went to the games this year. My friends and staff would tag along and keep him company. He’d tell the new kids the same stories I have been listening to for the last 20+ years, but I still appreciated them.

My Turn

I had the luxury of traveling this year to broadcast the men’s basketball games. Being on the road in the Big Ten was second nature to me. I decided to take full advantage this basketball season and broadcast as many as possible. I was approved to go to Ohio State for Iowa’s game in early February. I left a day early to avoid a snowstorm and drove to Columbus. But the team never took off from Iowa City and the game was postponed to a later date. Many people would have been upset with time wasted and money spent. I tried to be positive about the experience, even though it forced me to miss an important meeting with a broadcasting colleague.

The game was rescheduled for a Saturday afternoon and I had decided that I was not going to go. But for some reason, I changed my mind that Thursday. That postponement allowed me to take my dad. It was a business trip for me in the advancement of my career. And that drive back from Columbus after the Hawks picked up a big win over the Buckeyes… I won’t forget that either. Dad came on the road with me to Michigan, too. It must have been hard for him to sit alone, amongst the opposing fans. After calling a throwdown from Keegan Murray or ‘Bingo!’ from Bohannon, I’d look over to my dad from the hockey press box in Columbus or media row at Michigan to make sure he was doing alright. It was all good.

Why Broadcasting?

I did not become the doctor or scientist that maybe people thought I was going to be. But if I had, my relationship with my dad would be much different. I don’t think it would be as good. He often reminds me of my youth, especially following a debate on why a particular play was called or decision was made in sports. I hope that I have taught my dad a different way of looking at sports and relationships. The actions of a surgeon very much contribute to life and death. Perfection. Attention to detail. Success was the only option for Doc. I have spent time and energy trying to explain that an overthrown pass or missed free throw doesn’t always hold that weight.

I let my dad take credit for creating this addiction to sports. But he and my mother assume that it is an addiction to throwing a ball, hitting a shot, or making a save. The addiction is not to the game. The addiction is to the memories, emotions, feelings. It’s why as my time at KRUI was winding down, I wanted my dad to come to those road basketball games and why I got him a press pass to sit in the booth with me at Maryland. That part had nothing to do with sports. I chose broadcasting as a reflection of my foundational relationship with my dad. How can I help a listener draw a connection and memory with their dad or son or daughter or… whoever?

Built to Last

Taking my dad on the road this year felt like the good old days again. His world isn’t the same as it was in 1985. Or 2009. And especially not the same since 2018. Which is why I valued my broadcasting role over these last couple of years. To turn back the clock and do the things that built the foundation for our relationship. Maybe the materials you use for the foundation of your life are different than mine. The rewards of your strong foundation may reap different benefits. Time passes and we lose sight of what is valuable. The cold, wet, forces of nature can chip away at the house. But nothing can wipe away a strong foundation.

It is so easy to forget the important things in life. So don’t.

– John