Raising Greatness: An Arm Around The Shoulder

It was the first race in my short track and field career. The setting was in the small town of Clifton, Texas, home of our archrival in sports. My dad worked at a plant near Clifton. All of his colleagues were from this delightful central Texas village. They left work early that day to come to our eighth-grade track meet. Several of his buddies had sons in the meet as well. Finally, it was time for the mile to begin. No one had any expectations, especially my dad, because none of us had run the mile before. The race began, and I stuck with the leaders for the first three laps. In my head, I was telling myself that I wasn’t really that tired, so coming around the final curve, I decided to go for it. I took off in a full-out sprint and passed everyone coming down the stretch. I had a kick that surprised me, and of all people, my dad. It was an exhilarating moment for me, and a complete surprise, actually.

My dad, being a former Marine, had a tendency to be critical of my performances following competitive events, win or lose. Back then, we played every sport growing up. Track was just filling time between the other seasons. It seemed that I could never live up to his expectations. As he was approaching me following the meet, his friends all congratulated me and made a big deal out of the race. If only my dad could do that, I thought to myself. I just wanted to make him proud.

And then it happened. I can remember it as if it were yesterday. He came to me with a huge smile while placing his strong arm around my shoulder. He told me that I ran a great race and that he was proud of me. Then he surprised me more by asking, “How would you like to go to dinner at Waco’s iconic Elite Steak House on the way home to celebrate—just me and you?” Back then, we hardly ever ate out, certainly not at a steak house. I was in shock; it was a school night, and he was a stickler for homework on school nights. My heart was about to explode. He was proud, he was pleased; I had succeeded in his eyes. We had a memorable night, just me and him, talking late into the night. Time was suspended. But what I remember most was the arm around my shoulder. The touch from my dad was better than all the trophies that I had ever won or would ever win. There is something otherworldly about it: security, belonging, love, acceptance—a place that criticism or even constructive criticism could never touch. To this day, I wish for more. I longed for more. Though those arms around my shoulder were few throughout my sports career, when they happened, I knew in the moment I was his son.

There really isn’t anything more inspiring to a child than an authentic hug. Without them, the heart is stunted and will begin to look for a replacement. In the end, the substitutes are all impostors.

Forty years later, that same arm found its way around my shoulder the morning that my third amazing collie passed while my wife and daughters were out of town. Raising greatness is a lifelong endeavor.