I wasn’t a sports kid. I wasn’t a sports Dad.

Until Cam.

Whatever smooth moves my 8 year old has on the court doesn’t come from me, be it genetics or meaningful experience. The only ability I bring to the table is my incredible capacity to score a perfectly-arched air ball. That’s when the ball misses the backboard and rim completely. Well, air ball and a viewing of the hit movie Air Bud. I bring that to the table, too.

No, Cam’s basketball skill comes from Shawn.

I never met Shawn, Cam’s Dad in heaven, but I have moments where I “see” Shawn in a facial expression or in the way Cam moves because it reminds me of a video or a picture from the past. I really see it when he and I are playing one on one. The swagger, the coordination, the fact that he throws the ball and it actually goes into the basket — that’s biological. That’s Shawn. My successes in our games only come because I’m tall.

Brittany worked it out for us to do a quick trip to Cleveland to catch a March Madness game at Rocket Arena. I wasn’t a fan of Robert Morris University ’till around 2pm yesterday. Didn’t even know it existed. The same with Saint Mary College in California. These were close, urgent, intense games, and had the fan energy and food to match. They’re doing some fine work in the deep-friend broccoli department. Secret: the dipping sauce. I dare say I’d munch on a shingle if it were deep friend and dipped in Buffalo Ranch. And I actually like Broccoli.

Anyway, there we were with 18,000 or so fans entertained by mascots and pep bands between play. Cam was in his element, studying players and exclaiming at the right moments. He was transfixed. Laser focused, Chicken Nuggets and Sprite within reach. Watch, Cam. These guys are good. See how they stay on each other? Hands in the air!

We got home late and watched the defeat of Bryant by Michigan State under the gaze and consistent lead of the Coach Izzo. Cam kept saying “Can you believe we were just there? We saw an actual basketball game! And we were on TV, too, Daddy. Remember?”

This morning Cam and I played ball in his room. He was far more assertive, playing with the same kind of drive he saw at yesterday’s games. I’d better get taller or I’m done for.

I was happy we shared such a great day with him. Yet, on the ride home, I thought about the fact that it wasn’t supposed to be this way. Had there been no loss, no unexpected disaster and destruction in two families that have become a new single family, Shawn would’ve been in that chaotic arena sitting next to Cam, filling him in on all the details and teaching him about the game. Cam has me, and we see God’s redeeming hand in this, but I… and this is strange… I felt sadness for my son that his Dad couldn’t be there. His Dad/Shawn. I mourned.

B and I talked about it on the long drive home. We had lots of time in the car (around 10 hours). We both cried at the beautiful sadness of tragedy and redemption. I never met Shawn, but in these moments I can see his impact. I realize Cam is missing out on the way things should’ve been. So, I’m here to pick up where Shawn left off. I don’t feel inadequate. I feel honored, a little sad, and aware of how unpredictable life is.

And I’m surprised that it’s possible to miss a person I’ve never actually met.

This is yet another mystery of God’s grace in blended families. What can I say?

I’m proud to be a sports Dad.