Dad, The "Go-To Guy"

This past Friday night, I watched my daughter Sydney’s favorite team (the Bulls) and her favorite athlete (Michael Jordan) play a basketball game. Game Five of "The Finals." Mr. Jordan, as anyone who lives and breaths probably knows, had the flu. You could see it in his eyes, you could see it as he hesitated on drives to the basket, you could see it as he would drag back on defense, after making another improbable score. Shaky, droopy eyes; sad expression. The dude was sick. Oh, and he scored 39 points. All I could think was, "Why do his teammates keep insisting that he take the shot? I mean, can’ t they see the guy is sick?" I realized after a while, it was because no matter what, Jordan was their "Go-To Guy."

As I see it, Dads are the "Go-To Guy" of the family unit.

I realized that I was the "GTG" when I got a Swiss Army pocket knife from Sydney for Father’s Day one year. Since that day, whenever something needs fixed, Sydney’s first words are "Dad, get your knife, the (fill in the blank) is broke." I swear, if we were in a 747 jumbo jet crossing the Atlantic and the Captain announced that the plane was experiencing engine trouble, Sydney would turn to Anna and whisper, "It’s okay, Mom, Dad’s got his knife." But it’s not just the knife. It’s the job.

Spiders? Dad’ll get ‘em. Heavy boxes? Go get your Daddy. Twelve-foot tall, slobbering evil monsters invading your bedroom? Wake up Dad.

A big part of the job of a Dad is to do the hard, dirty stuff.

This past year, our family, extended and otherwise, has been involved as interested spectators in Sydney’s battle with cancer. She had to fight, we had the supporting role. In the nuclear part of the Tapia Clan, however, I was, whether I liked it or not, the "Go-To Guy." I had to make the hard decisions, work the bad hours, take the lonely and sometimes very scary initial night shifts at the hospital, fight with the doctors when covering their asses seemed more important than Sydney’s state of mind. I had to balance the precarious line between being there for my daughter, who is fighting for her life, and keeping myself employed so that she would have the best on her side to help her fight the fight. The hard jobs, the shit work, the judgment calls - I had to make them, because somebody has to. The only thing I didn’t have to do (thank God) is get my Swiss Army pocket knife and don a surgical gown and carve out the cancer that was attacking my daughter’s kidneys. The job of the "GTG" is hard sometimes.

Now, don’t get me wrong: this is not about how great Dads are or how I single-handedly carried my family through tough times. It is about being that special someone who has to do the hard stuff. Because he can, Dad is it. In our own little game called "Raising a Family," Dad is the "Go-To Guy." Dad takes the hard foul. Dad takes the shot, the shit, the second job, even when it seems impossible. Sound unfair? Well, who else would you have do it? Don’t think you know how? Watch the video of a certain world-famous Chicago Bulls shooting guard, and I think you’ll get the idea.

Now fer sure, the presence required for the job as "GTG" is something I, myself, am still learning about. To be truthful, quite often I fumble the inbound pass. One thing I can tell you, that may or may not make the job easier. When, as a Dad, you do your best as the "Go-To Guy," and you get it right, the pride in your child’s eyes will make one thing very clear.

Michael Jordan has nothing on you. Happy Father’s Day