Always had a complex relationship with my dad. My parents divorced young, and he was in and out growing up, was not really affectionate much, had problems keeping jobs, and he suffered and still struggles with some mental health issues. He still would do things with us and for us sometimes, and my mom always told us he was a good man but he just didn’t know how to love. He was definitely very reclusive and would isolate himself a lot. He was a child of Mexican immigrants, grew up a migrant farm worker, and was a standout athlete in HS in the RGV. I got my love of UT and sports in general from him, especially baseball. He definitely instilled a pride in our heritage that I appreciate now as an adult.
One thing I will never ever forget is my sophomore year of college. He happened to be living not too far from me in a pretty shitty apartment. No one I knew liked college football much, so every Saturday morning I would drive over to his place and watch college football with him. Literally all day long. Didn’t matter if it was Northeast Vermont State vs Cleveland Tech. We would watch it. If UT was playing a night game I would usually leave after. I can vividly remember getting ready to go once and him saying “there’s some good PAC 12 games about to start I think”. So I stayed and watched. I think he just didn’t want me to go. He lives far from me now and I don’t see him a lot, but when I remember those saturdays I just want to cry.