Happy Birthday, Dad. Thank you for coming to every practice I ever had, even those times that I had to drive you home. And thank you for being such a sharp dresser.

And you know how you like to tell the story of when you and some friends got hammered one night, and you all decided to get tattoos of the Playboy bunny, so you drove to Venice Beach but you were third in line and by the time the first two got their tattoos you had sobered up to the point of knowing better? Thanks for not getting that tattoo, Dad. That would have changed everything.