The Common Language of Sports

Behind every sports fan, there is an origin story, a beginning, and then sports is lifelong, part of you. I’m reminded of this every May 21th, because this is my Dad’s birthday, and today he would have been 90. He taught me the common language of sports.

During football season, whenever the Bills are playing, my friends and I will text each other in a group chat. We’ll each be watching the game separately in our homes, and yet we’ll celebrate the great plays in unison, routinely second guess the dubious coaching decisions, send silly and often inappropriate memes, and basically share the complete game experience together — win, lose, or draw. At some point during the game, the chats and conversation will inevitably turn to updates about our lives, current events, and even otherwise divisive politics. Because sports — no matter how long it’s been since we’ve seen one another or what may have changed in our lives or how much we might agree to disagree — remains the common language that brings us together for at least 3 hours every Sunday. It’s the common language that unites us and lets us talk about any subject as long it’s done within the lines on the playing field. I speak this common language fluently because I learned it from my father.

My father and I were very different, but sports was our shared passion: what we watched, what we did, how we communicated, and how we bonded and spent the bulk of our quality time together.

Living in Buffalo, of course my introduction to this common language began with the Bills and Sabres. I still remember the specific fall season and day when I first started to understand this language. I was 9 years old. It was a Sunday in September in 1980. Ronald Reagan was President. The Bills were playing their division rival the Miami Dolphins who had beaten them 20 straight times. I recall coming into the house after playing street football with my friends when my Dad excitedly and loudly told me the Bills won and the fans stormed the field and tore down the goalposts in celebration. I couldn’t remember seeing him this animated before over sports. This was big and I knew I needed to understand why.

It began to come together for me that 1980 to 1981 Bills season, when the Chuck Knox coached Bills team jumped out to a 5–0 start en route to a thrilling 11–5 season. I recall watching nearly every game with my father that season and learning the nuances of the game and the history of the franchise. He shared with me how he used to enjoy going to games in the old War Memorial Stadium and of the great, championship Bills teams from 1964 and 1965. I learned the names Ralph Wilson, Coach Lou Saban, Quarterback Jack Kemp, and Running Back Cookie Gilchrist, among others. Long before there was a Bill Mafia and when it became fashionable to watch the NFL, my father supported the team through good and bad in the Rock Pile. The Bills were his team, and he was bringing me into the fold.

The 81 playoff run was an amazing ride with breakout seasons from Joe Ferguson, Joe Cribbs, and Jerry Butler, and the community rallying in support. “We’re Talking Proud” was the slogan of the team and era — part of the common language of sports, and I was learning.

But the language of sports is not without disappointment, and the 81 Bills were my first lesson in Buffalo sports heartbreak as a hobbled Joe Ferguson (injured with a sprained ankle) and the team lost to the San Diego Chargers in the playoffs. Nonetheless, I was hooked and from that point forward watched countless games together with my dad. And it wasn’t just the Bills — my father was also a die hard Yankees fan, and he supported the Sabres and the Braves as well.

Here are some of my favorite sports memories of my Dad.

• Getting to stay up late on Mondays to watch Monday Night Football
• The famous Kellen Winslow game. This was an epic AFC divisional playoff game between the San Diego Chargers and Miami Dolphins that took place on January 2, 1982 in the Miami Orange Bowl. The game, won by the Chargers in overtime, 41–38, is one of the most famous football games ever because of the conditions, the performances, and the numerous records that were set. My Dad and I watched every minute of the game and Dad commented after watching it that Kellen Winslow’s performance was the single greatest athletic performance he’d ever witnessed.
• Super Bowls — every year, my family hosted family and friends to come over for Super Bowl Sunday, and dad especially treated the day as a holiday, with food, drink, and Super Bowl betting squares. For the 1981 Super Bowl, I wagered my first bet with my dad, and won as the Oakland Raiders beat the Philadelphia Eagles. My dad also got me a jersey of my favorite player — cornerback Lester Hayes of the Raiders — which I still have to this day.
• Hockey … especially the French Connection, Hockey Night in Canada, and the Scotty Bowman Sabres teams, and their battles against the Bruins, Canadiens, NY Islanders (and more Buffalo sports heartbreak). My dad introduced me to the Aud and took me to my first ever Sabres game, which continued my education into sports and fostered my interest in all things Canada, which eventually led to my going to Ottawa for grad school.
• Lazy summer nights watching the Yankees and hearing about all the great Bronx Bombers Dad followed as a kid and young man. He liked Joe DiMaggio more than Mickey Mantle, felt Phil Rizzuto was underrated, absolutely loved Joe Torre, sympathized with Billy Martin, never embraced Roger Clemens as a true Yankee, and was saddened when Thurman Munson died in a plane crash.
• And finally and most memorably, the great Bills teams of the 90s. My Dad and I watched nearly every televised game during the Super Bowl era together. He conceded that Jim Kelly and Bruce Smith were phenomenal talents, but deep down appreciated Thurman Thomas more. As anyone here who knew my Dad back then will tell you, he struggled to respect Marv Levy, felt Levy was out-coached by Bill Parcells in Super Bowl 25, and would never, ever, ever concede the point.
• Dad loved to express his sports language opinion on the radio. That regular, animated caller you heard on the “Art Wander Show” in the 1990s? That was my Dad.
• I learned from my father that when it’s your team you watch til the end, and hold your head high and maintain dignity, even when losing. This lesson began on a cold winter day in 1993, when the Bills were losing a playoff game to the Houston Oilers 35–3 in the third quarter. The game wasn’t televised and my Dad and I listened to Van Miller and the radio telecast. I was ready to give up more than once, but my Dad kept listening and eventually the Bills rallied and beat the Oilers in what is still considered the greatest comeback in NFL history.
• Perhaps more poignant was a moment from Super Bowl 27 a few weeks later, when the Bills were losing big to the Cowboys. It was late in the game and the Bills fumbled and Cowboys defender Leon Lett picked up the ball and was running in for a touchdown … when Bills receiver Don Beebee sprinted to catch Lett and knock the ball away, preventing the touchdown. My father and I exchanged glances but did not speak as sometimes words aren’t necessary in the common language of sports. You play to the end and I’ve never, ever forgotten that moment.

The beauty of the language of sports is that it’s timeless and passed on. My daughter and I visited my Dad a few days before he passed. On the car ride, she talked about her love of playing basketball and how great she feels when she’s in the zone, on the court, away from all the drama of life. My father would agree and, yes, he was a big basketball fan too and would have loved to see his granddaughter play.

To close, to celebrate my Dad’s gift of sports to me and now his granddaughter, I feel it’s fitting to end with a quote that sums up his love of sports and life. This is from the young adult novel about basketball The Crossover by Kwame Alexander.

In this game of life
your family is the court
and the ball is your heart.
No matter how good you are,
no matter how down you get,
always leave
your heart
on the court.”
― Kwame Alexander, The Crossover