Your dad = smart man

My dad was a reluctant jarhead Ninja assassin who survived massive shrapnel and later a ’66 arcane open brain surgery when I was two——he was a bit set in his ways (he never went to my basketball games, saw a few of my football games). He’d have an occasional catch with me in the street, taught me card games like Tonk, Cribbage, & Casino, including Poker & nickel/dime Blackjack. He enjoyed loading me up in the family car and turning me on to chilidogs late at night when he got home from work, he’d park close enough to the Wagon Wheel [Harley] Bar & Grill where there were always bloody fights out front—he would commentate the fight, thinking he was teaching me something. (I’d be dozing off with a belly full of chilidogs & coke.) I suppose I picked up a few things…pop was kinda nuts. He showed me how to wrap pennies in a roll then tape it up to carry it in my pocket. It felt nice to wrap a fist around but I never actually had a reason to use it. My dad grew up in the bowery (not NY but every city’s got one), so his ideas of the street were darkly tainted: He ritually sermonized Zen to my siblings & me. But I didn’t feel he really had a true to the practice understanding o what he was so passionately interpreting. he told amazing stories. Had some of the funniest (& most twisted) friends. He loved & hated with equal unbridled honesty. He refused to or was physiologically unable to evolve. He dressed like a Rat Pack cameo. & i'm pretty sure although he would've killed to love & protect my mom (his girl) ...it's a real good probability he had a secret long-term love interest downtown. They were discreet ...but I kinda think he let the cat outta the bag once at an NFL game with me. He was being coy ...but still....

P.S. Kudos.. your daughter's team (& her dad-dad-daddio)