How I find togetherness with my father through the joy of sports.

by Justin Troia

The dim glow of the television illuminates our faces as we stare intently at the players moving across the field.

My dad sits to my right in an old, brown, cloth recliner. My brother, JT, sits to my left on the leather couch with a blanket spread across it so the couch doesn’t wear out. Outside, the weather has grown cold and the sun set two hours ago, but we sit inside with the wood stove burning hot.

The Seahawks are on the TV and my family gathers in the living room as if there’s a fire in the middle of us and we all want to be closer to its warmth.

Whenever the clock stops running, I turn to my dad and talk about the last play. His voice is giddy with excitement over another person to dissect the game with.

It’s all hugs and high fives when we score, and tones of disdain bellow through the house whenever our Seattle teams fail to. During commercial breaks, we gather our sodas from the fridge and laugh together. Usually, my parents are in bed early and my brother is out with his friends. It’s rare for my family to be together for more than three hours.

My dad, JT and I do not have much in common. They both share interests such as hunting and working outside, hobbies that are not my strong suit because I would rather tinker with electronics. Our passion for Seattle sports teams is what brings us together.

Since I could walk, I have watched sports with my dad. He’s taken me to Mariners games, Seahawks games and my baseball games ever since I was 4 years old.

He coached almost all of my youth baseball teams and attended many of my high school baseball games.

He would always drive me home after my peewee games, letting the little 7-year-old in the back of the car know what he could have done better. I may not have known it then, but he always wanted me to be the best I can be.

Since I no longer play the sports we share a united passion for, we watch the pro teams in Seattle.

Even though the Mariners have the fifth-worst win percentage as a franchise in Major League Baseball, winning or losing doesn’t matter to us. The same is true with the Seahawks, who have only won one Super Bowl in franchise history.

Trying to find common ground has always been a want for me. Having one thing we care about together makes me excited for the growth we can have as a family, like better communication and longer hugs when I see them after being away.

As time has gone on, we find ourselves further apart than ever before. JT moved to Pullman to attend Washington State University, and I moved to Bellingham to study at Western Washington University.

The move meant we lost the precious time we spent together every Sunday for football and those late-weeknight Mariners games. The distance put a strain on the happiness I felt, because I was not with them during the games.

The pandemic has driven more conversations online, and the rise of homesickness among students continues to grow. According to the National Institutes of Health, at least 19% of university students have been found to experience homesickness.

Times change, and moving on from your parents to begin your life may be the path that others follow, but I value the connection I have because it will not always be there. Life is short, and the time you spend with others is what carries on. Memories are what last, not the moments themselves.

I remember when the Seahawks won the Super Bowl in 2014. My dad let me skip school to go to the victory parade in Seattle. Temperatures dipped into the 20s, but he let me borrow his Seahawks beanie. He kept me warm while we watched the figures I idolized celebrate a monumental victory.

The parade was created to celebrate the Super Bowl victory, but what I treasured even more was having him next to me, just as excited to share that moment. This was over eight years ago, but the memories are still vivid in my mind.

Cherishing the time that I have with my father helps me understand just how important it is to have family members invested in my life. The memories created through spending time with him and watching these moments in history are invaluable.

Now, I sit alone on weeknights watching the Mariners, but I always get a phone call before the game starts. A smile spreads across my face as I hear my dad’s voice, "You’re watching the game tonight, right?”

I take solace knowing he is at home sitting in that old, worn chair watching the same game. We may not be together physically, but the connection through the sports we watch is enough.