Tag Archives: Dad Stong

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Jax Leads Dad to First Ever Head Coach Win

There are certain games that stick with you — not because of the final score, but because of the way they’re played. The kind where effort shows up in every possession and leadership doesn’t need to be loud to be felt (and coming from me, that’s saying something). This one happened to be my first game stepping in as head coach, but what made it memorable had very little to do with me.

This weekend was one of those games for Jackson.

From the opening tip, he was locked in. Focused. Ready to do whatever the team needed… and as the game unfolded, it became clear that his impact wasn’t going to be measured just in points, but in stops, hustle plays, and moments that quietly changed the direction of the game.

Let’s start with defense — because that’s where this game was won long before the scoreboard caught up.

Jax, you took on their best shooter and shut him down. He managed just one shot all game because you were everywhere — hands up, feet moving, body in the right place every possession. You forced tough jumpers and never let him get comfortable. That kind of defense doesn’t always show up in the stat sheet, but it wins games. Your defense was locked in, disciplined, and relentless.

Then there was the hustle.

The ball felt like it had your name on it. You kept it alive over and over — offensive rebounds, assists, steals, tip-outs — just refusing to let possessions die. When we were down by six and momentum wasn’t ours, you were the spark.

No one in this league wants to see you defending them and for sure no one wants to drive the lane and see you standing in the key. You’re like a young Dennis Rodman (before he dyed his hair like an Easter egg). Those extra efforts don’t always go as stats in the box score, but they change everything. They kept us in the game and helped turn it around.

Slowly, possession by possession, we climbed back.

Eventually, we took the lead.
Eventually, we won.

And there you were, right in the middle of it — leading the way, doing the little things, helping us come back and keep our team in first place.

Jackson, this was your game.
And it’s one I’ll never forget.

PS: I plan on retiring with an undefeated head coaching record!

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Two Rooms, One Very Quiet Hallway

Five years ago, my wife and I carried bunk bed pieces down the hallway and into Jackson’s room, assembling what felt like the physical symbol of brotherhood. Two small boys. One room. One nightly routine. One parent wedged awkwardly between a wall and a ladder reading just one more book.

That first night they slept together in their bunks felt monumental. I even wrote about it at the time because that’s what dads like me do when they realize a moment matters—try to freeze it in words before it slips away.

Fast forward to now.

For the past couple of months, both boys have been asking to “set up their own rooms.” Not demanding. Not dramatic. Just casually, the way kids do when they’ve already moved on emotionally and are waiting for you to catch up.

So today we did it.

We rebuilt the bunks in Oliver’s room. Jackson’s room got a solo bed—no ladder, no top bunk negotiations, no whispered conversations that definitely weren’t happening five minutes after lights out.

Tonight is the first night they’re sleeping separately.

(Unless you count the occasional 3 a.m. migration into mom and dad’s room or a friend’s sleepover—but let’s not ruin the narrative.)

I knew this day would come. I just didn’t realize how much I’d miss the old routine until it was gone.

There was something special about bedtime in that shared room. Reading a book while one boy asked questions and the other slowly drifted off. Turning the lights down and listening to them talk to each other—about nothing and everything—until their voices faded into sleep. Sitting there longer than necessary because once they were asleep, the day officially ended.

Now there are two rooms. Two goodnight hugs. Two light switches. And somehow… less noise.

I’m proud of them. Truly. This is growth. Independence. Confidence. All the things we’re supposed to want for our kids.

But tonight, standing in the hallway after tucking them in, I felt it—that quiet reminder that childhood doesn’t ask permission before it changes. One day you’re climbing down from a top bunk, and the next you’re realizing you’ve done it for the last time.

I hope they always remember what it felt like to share a room. To fall asleep knowing their brother was right there. To learn—early—that even when life eventually gives you your own space, you don’t have to do everything alone.

Because rooms change. Beds move. Eras quietly end.

But brothers?
That’s the part I hope never does.

PS: The fight for where Wednesday sleeps from now on has begun. Chalk up a night one win to big brother.

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Dove’s Dad Commercial Won the Super Bowl

Super Bowl commercials do one (maybe two) of the following to the viewers: hype us up, make us laugh, or make us cry.  This year there were a few of the hype and comedic commercials… but it was the attempts to make us cry that seemed to prevail.

The folks at Dove have decided to go with the latter this year by running an ad as part of its #RealStrength campaign, which depicted children of all ages and races calling out for their father.  Essentially, the spot contains only one word the entire time: “dad.”  Whether it was “dad,” “daddy,” or “dada” the commercial shows real dads who are a positive influence on their children.

This commercial brought on all the feels.  Chills, Goosebumps, tears… you name it we felt it!  In doing research for this commercial Dove says that it conducted a survey in which only 13% of the 1,000 fathers surveyed said that fathers are portrayed as care givers for their children.  This commercial is perfect.  It’s a simple and beautiful statement.  Fathers are responsible for more than teaching their children about sports, girls and cars.

Recently, mom and I have been playfully arguing back and forth about Jackson’s first words.  I swear we’ve heard him say “dada” a few times.  Hearing your son call you dad for the first time would make even the Grinch’s heart grow..

Most of the time dads are portrayed in a negative light in the media. I for one am happy to be a dad who prides himself in being largely involved in his son’s life.  I am glad this ad ran during the Super Bowl, not just because of how horrible the other ads were, but because it gives us dads a little air time in a positive light.  Plus, it gave us a good reason to shed a few tears… but only a few, because remember dads are tough… we don’t cry!

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