By the Dashboard Lights
by Dave Friedli
04/18/02
The Champion
The hands on the clock on the living room wall indicated it wasn't
much past time for the late local news to begin.
But in reality, the phone call came in that space of time between
dozing and deep slumber.
It had been a long week.
The Wife made the first grab for the receiver. I missed once and
she fumbled it twice before making a clear reception and intoned a
groggy, "Hello?"
"We're on our way home, and we have a State Champion!"
It was the eldest daughter, obviously sleep-deprived from three days
in the State's capital city, but less-so than her mom and dad.
"That's nice," offered The Wife. "Travel safely."
"We will...but we have a State Champion!"
Stifling a yawn, The Wife tried a bit harder to show excitement
through fatigue that was cheering for REM sleep to cross the finish
line. "OK, honey. Good. Your chapter has a champion. That's nice."
"No, no. WE have a State Champion. As in THE FAMILY. As in OUR
FAMILY."
The forcefulness of the news made the fatigued parental unit sit up
in bed the way the bright light of mid-morning causes one to wake up
to the reality the alarm did not go off and now faces being late for
every important life commitment.
"You...you won?"
"Yep. I get to go to Nationals in
Well, see ya at home. Love ya." Click.
The Wife: "Cayla just called."
Me: "Hhumph?"
The Wife: "She won her event."
Me: "Uhmmmmph."
The Wife: "She is going to get to go National Conference in
too and make it a vacation."
Me: "Huh?"
The way to a dad's heart--and full, wide-awake attention is through
the pocketbook.
A few hours and a pot of coffee later, everything became clear in
the light of day. On the mantle sat a trophy and gold medal.
Our daughter, State Champion.
I attempted to put this in perspective, and names came to mind.
Greg Sentelle. Davey Vavra. Tom Gatzemeyer. Matt Morgan.
In 13 years of coaching, I had the opportunity to coach four
champion wrestlers.
All of a sudden, I was living with the Nebraska 2002 Future Farmers
of
a feather.
When Cayla said last Fall she would be joining FFA, I asked if I had
to buy a goat. We don't live on a farm or on an acreage. Our beef
is a half-block away in the grocery store meat counter.
Reassured there would be no goat, I suppose I had lost track of the
nights she grabbed a quick bit of supper and dashed out the door to
head for an FFA meeting or practice.
I never saw it coming. I don't think anyone in the family did, with
the possible exception of the Champion herself.
In sports and other competitions, there is a warning of winning a
championship. Some call it an expectation. Others call it a
"knowing".
This was the unknowing. I've never heard the Creed. It could
start, "We the people..." and I wouldn't know the difference.
I want to hear it for the first time at Nationals. We'll make it a
vacation, sleeping in a hotel room in
I'll count goats instead of sheep to fall asleep, but make sure the
alarm clock is set. This is something I won't miss.