By George Schroeder | LTVN Executive Producer
I remember the back of the shirt of the fan in front of me. It read, “It is intercepted. Intercepted. The Ducks have the ball. Down to the 35. The 40. Kenny Wheaton’s gonna score. Kenny Wheaton’s gonna score.”
It was in reference to “The Pick” — one of the most legendary plays in Oregon football history, and the infamous call made by Jerry Allen. I was in the same stadium at a much less exciting or important game, but I didn’t know or care.
It was September 2011, and the Ducks were playing Missouri State in Autzen Stadium. It was a slaughter, 56-7. I liked head coach Chip Kelly and running back LaMichael James — my favorite player at the time, probably because he was basically the only player I knew on the roster.
This was the first football game I went to with my dad — at least that I can remember. I was 10 years old and had become a passive fan of the Oregon Ducks after moving to Eugene, Ore.
He wrote an article, “Fathers, sons and high-fives,” about our experience together at that game 13 years ago. I don’t need that article to remember it though. That day at Autzen is fixed in my memory.
“Years from now, who knows how much he will remember about Saturday,” my dad wrote in 2011. “Could be, he’ll recall the Ducks won big. Perhaps he’ll remember LaMichael’s long run, and how the stadium exploded in the moment. Maybe he’ll remember our high-five.”
I do.
I remember the ticket. I remember it being a blackout game. I remember the little green and white Oregon hat my dad bought me. I remember my dad walking me through the practice field where vendors and fans were selling merch and playing games before kickoff. I remember the hot dog we got at the concession stand. And yes, I remember high-fiving my dad and the fans around me when the Ducks scored (we high-fived a lot that day).
My dad explained the plays and the positions. I asked him about the shirt in front of me. He explained that too. He was a local sports columnist, and his face had been placed on newspaper boxes all around Eugene at one point. I remember thinking how cool it was when a couple of fans wanted to shake my dad’s hand.
My passive fan status for the Ducks changed immediately following that game, but one thing has never changed: I was a die-hard fan of my dad — and I still am.
It’s an odd thing to simply wake up one day and be done with something that has played such a large part in your life. Soon, I’ll be ending my four-year career with The Baylor Lariat. Originally, I was going to write about that to end my time here, but I just couldn’t see anything more fitting than writing about the man who got me where I am today.
For most of my life, my dad has been a college football writer, reaching the highest echelons of his career field at USA Today. He has received nine national honors from the Associated Press Sports Editors, is a successful author, was the president of the Football Writers Association of America and was even recently inducted into the Arkansas Sportscasters Sportswriters Hall of Fame.
By the way, the Cowboys haven’t won a Super Bowl since my dad stopped covering them.
He felt called to ministry four years ago and since then has served in multiple facets. He completed a master’s in theological studies at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, teaches classes at Baylor, is pursuing a second master’s through Truett Theological Seminary and co-hosts a faith-based college football podcast.
He would never tell you any of that himself, so I did. Needless to say, during my life, he was a hardworking and successful man. He traveled a lot more than most and was usually very busy. In the fall, it wasn’t uncommon for him to be gone almost every weekend.
When I graduate in May, I will be 23 years old. Several times in my young adult life, my dad has told me that he wishes he could have done more with me. You know, he wishes we had thrown ball more.
I imagine many parents feel the same way when their children reach a certain age, and yet I’m sure they all feel very alone in that sentiment.
Dad, let me tell you that you’ve never let me down. I remember that day at Autzen.
More impressive than his career achievements though is the fact that he did it all while leading his family in faith and loving his wife and kids more than we deserve (but we also love him far more than he deserves, so it evens out). The simple fact is I think the world of my dad, and he has taught me so, so much.
He may sometimes worry about what could have been, but it’s time he understands the reality of what actually was … and is.
We have never had a perfect relationship. We’ve yelled at each other. We’ve had hard conversations. I’ve disrespected him. He’s made me blazing mad. We don’t always naturally “click,” because our personalities are very different. None of this, however, is what first comes to mind when I think of my dad.
I remember when I wrecked my truck and the only thing he cared about was me. I remember that feeling when he laughed at the same thing I laughed at in a movie. I remember all the times his son was more important than his work. Even if it took until the next day for us to do it, I remember the hug we shared after a fight, not the fight itself.
I also remember that day at Autzen.
More important than every moment I’ve already shared, for my entire life, in every prayer my dad has ever prayed for me, he asks that I would come to know and love Jesus more. I found my faith because of my dad. He has always demonstrated to me what is more important than it all.
He taught me that our works on Earth are nothing without faith. The Bible says our works are like filthy rags. At the end of our lives, only one thing will matter — our hope in Christ.
Despite what he may think or feel, had he only taught me the importance of my faith, he would have given me more than I could have asked for. But he gave me more.
He showed me how to carry myself professionally.
I remember standing on the sidelines at a Thurston Colts high school football game in Springfield, Ore. I was just a kid, and we definitely weren’t supposed to be there. “Just act like you own the place,” he said. I still use that today. Later, he yanked me to safety from two players colliding out of bounds with the football.
He taught me the importance of dedication and commitment.
In high school, the cross country meets I remember the most are the ones he was at (“Go buddy!” I would hear from various points on each course). I was such an average runner, but he was so proud of me. He shot the gun to start the races on our home course. Anyone could have done it, but I was proud.
He demonstrated what true hard work looks like.
I’m wrapping up a four-year career with The Baylor Lariat — something not many students can say. It’s because of him. The apple didn’t fall far from the tree as I went to school for journalism, and I found a passion in that field because of my dad.
Hey Dad, you gave me all those things, and I remember so much more than that day at Autzen.
In elementary school, I remember he was so proud of me because I ran through the line in my heat at TrackTown USA at Hayward Field in Eugene. I was maybe the 50th fastest kid in that event.
I remember him standing up to tell two students to shut it as they catcalled cheerleaders at a basketball game. I had no clue what was going on, but I remember being proud.
On my 17th birthday, he flew me to Phoenix because he couldn’t escape covering Pac-12 media days for my birthday, but he could bring me to him.
I was a total theater kid. He never missed a show — ever.
The summer before college, he took me across the United States from Los Angeles to Oklahoma City on Route 66 because I wanted to. I talked him into renting a 2020 Mustang convertible (you’re welcome, Dad).
The first time I ever saw him wear team colors to a collegiate sporting event was the 2021 Sugar Bowl (Sic ‘em Bears). I know he was wearing that green and gold for me. By the way, we went to two other bowl games that season.
Those games were awesome. So was joining him in the press box for numerous events. So was the Air Force Academy game we drove down to and the Broncos game we went to over the holiday break last year.
So was that day at Autzen.
For my entire junior year, I got to see him every Thursday as he drove down from Fort Worth to teach a class at Baylor once a week. I’ll always cherish that. He came to see me for every Baylor Homecoming, and when he couldn’t make it last year, he made it work and surprised me in Waco anyway.
He texts me every time the Bears win a game, “Sic ‘em.” Sometimes he calls just to call. He posts about me a little bit too much — but I know I’d miss it if he stopped. On holidays, he’s usually waiting outside for me to pull in, and he’s always asking if I can stay “just one more day” when I pull out.
I high-fived The Rock because of my dad. I Facetimed Denver Broncos quarterback Bo Nix because of my dad. I’ve traveled the country because of my dad. I’ve toured so many football facilities and met so many coaches I literally can’t remember them all because of my dad.
But I do remember that day at Autzen.
Dad, I remember so much more than you realize. I love and appreciate all you’ve done for me more than I have ever expressed. The life lessons are invaluable, the stories are incredible, the places we’ve been are unforgettable and the memories are priceless.
So, for one final time, your son is signing off for The Baylor Lariat, grateful for all my time here and thankful for the people who got me through it all.
Dad, I do remember the high-five. I remember that day in Autzen — and every other moment — because of you.
