The annual Army-Navy game occurred yesterday. I’ve never watched it with anyone but had shared it with my dad for many years. Before the games, we would call or text each other the traditional boasts.

Go Army—Beat Navy!
Go Navy—Beat Army!

Unfortunately, I can’t do that any longer. He’s battling dementia, and moments like we had are forever lost.

A strange feeling hit me at the beginning of yesterday’s game, and I got teary-eyed. It happened to me last year, too. My girlfriend pointed out that these grieving moments will keep occurring for some time. I guess that’s how life is.

It ended up being an exciting game. Army won in double overtime. There have been 123 meetings between the teams, but this was the first time they went into overtime. I hooted and hollered as I tend to do during a football game. When the game ended, I only wanted to call my dad.

Instead, I went outside and shoveled snow.

When I was a kid, the game between the two military academies held no special meaning. I recall my dad watching them, but I don’t remember him explaining the game’s significance. Maybe he did, and I was too young to internalize it. Or perhaps he told me about the game while I was in high school and too self-absorbed to pay attention.

The teams never seemed that good. Not when compared to my childhood favorite—Ohio State. Heck, not even when compared to the local darling—Washington State.

Regardless, I never paid attention to the Army-Navy game until I was stationed in Germany. And then it was only a peripheral awareness. I still didn’t care about the game between the Black Knights and Midshipmen because I hated the players.

Actually, I hated anyone who attended West Point.

I enlisted in the Army so I could earn the GI Bill. My college experience would occur after my military service. The guys playing football on national television were going to college right then. When they graduated, they would enter the active Army as officers and order around enlisted personnel like me. Most of those academy graduates would proudly wear West Point rings, and enlisted personnel derogatorily referred to West Point alums as ring knockers.

My hatred was based on jealousy. I wanted to attend college before entering the military but convinced myself I couldn’t. The reality is that I could have, but I made certain choices during high school that likely precluded that. I partied instead of studying. I worked a job rather than participating in sports and extracurricular activities. I made all sorts of excuses for not attending college, including blaming my parents.

The last excuse was the easiest. I criticized my parents for not being able to afford to send me to a great school. At that time, I wouldn’t accept any responsibility for failing to put myself in a position to earn a scholarship.

My father and I didn’t get along back then. We butted heads on everything. He was never abusive; he was just a guy who wanted the best for his son. But I was a teenager who was confident that I was smarter than my father. Most kids are that way, but I was convinced of my intelligence. It is hilarious now when you realize how little I did to prepare for college.

Believing that college wasn’t an option, I wanted to get away from my parents and my hometown. Spokane felt so small back then, and my parents felt so controlling. To stick a thumb in my dad’s eye, I joined the Army.

My father served in the Navy during the Viet Nam war. After eight years, he left the military to help raise my brother and me. I genuinely believe that my dad had a sailor’s soul, and he forever regretted leaving the Navy too early. That’s why he loved talking about the service so much.

In 1989, while I was stationed in Germany, Navy won that year’s annual contest with Army. My dad sent me a U.S. Navy t-shirt (see picture). He included a Go Navy-Beat Army note in the package, but I didn’t understand the significance of it. I wore the shirt around the barracks. I even wore it once to our morning training, underneath my Army sweatshirt, of course.

But I still wasn’t buying into the Army-Navy rivalry. Not when their players would stroll into the military as officers and boss me around.

As an enlisted man, the whole West Point thing rankled me.

After my time in the military ended, my vision was down the road. I wanted to graduate college as soon as possible. I didn’t take the time to appreciate my service. I thought my dad’s love for the Navy always seemed misplaced.

However, our relationship had transformed into something completely different. I realized all the stuff he tried to teach me was to help prepare me for life on my own. He wasn’t a hard ass. He only wanted me to be a guy who didn’t need to run home for help. I loved my dad and am forever thankful for the upbringing he provided.

Every year, he would call with a good-natured “Go Navy” call.

I don’t know what year I started to understand the importance of the game and looked forward to those calls.

Someone said in this year’s pre-game that this is the only game where every player on the field is willing to die for their country. The academies also have other sports, such as men's and women’s basketball, men's and women’s swimming, hockey, wrestling, etc. But the speaker’s point was valid. After the students graduate, they will all go into either the Army or the Navy. None of the players will play in the NFL, NHL, or NBA. This sentiment goes for the Air Force Academy, too.

This game is a national championship for the men on the field and the students in the stands. They play for the honor of their school and the pride of their chosen service. I think that’s why my dad liked it for so many years before I did, and it’s why I enjoy it so much now.

It’s why I wish I could still share those moments with him.