It was a warm and muggy Sunday afternoon. Not even a cold
chocolate milkshake could quench the thirst of a four-year old boy on the way
to his first Dallas Cowboys Training Camp.
"Are we at the game, yet?" he would ask more than a dozen
times in less than an hour.
"Pretty soon," was my repeated response. "And it's not
really a game, it's practice."
The anticipation was killing me, too. It had been five years
since I had been to a Dallas Cowboys Training Camp. In 2003 my son was only
a month old and I wasn't able to make the trip to San Antonio from Austin to
see them again. Then they pulled out of Texas in 2004 to hold training camp in
California. One of the worst things you can do to a Cowboys fan is take the
team to California for practice. This year they made it back to San Antonio to
the delight of over 135,000 fans.
We arrived at the Alamodome about an hour prior to practice
so we could get a good seat in the VIP section. Fan club members get special
access to the sideline for field level viewing and autographs. Admission is
free to training camp but parking there is $10.00. Sure enough I only had $9.45
on me since I paid cash for our lunch at "Old McDonalds" on the way down. No
problem. Since the Alamodome is right next to downtown San Antonio, I just
drove down the road to find an ATM. In downtown Austin, you can find an ATM or
a drive-thru bank on almost every corner.
Not so in San Antonio. I drove around for a good twenty
minutes cursing under my breath about how the city must really not want my
money. I guess they put all the ATM's down on the Riverwalk where all the
action is. I wasn't about to try and find a place to park, walk my four-year
old down to the Riverwalk, attempt to locate an ATM, and walk back up, so I hit
the freeway and found a convenience store.
My son was amazed at the size of the Alamodome, especially
on the inside. We grabbed some seats in the VIP section and watched the players
warm-up.
"When are they going to start playing?" he asked.
"Pretty soon. They have to stretch and loosen up first," I
said.
"Daddy, can we get some nachos?"
He had his mind on those nachos several days before we left.
Nothing beats melted processed cheese sauce over crispy round tortilla chips. I
think the price tag of $5.00 an order for such a delicious delicacy is a little
too low, but I didn't complain to the manager.
So we grabbed our nachos and moved sections to check out the
offense practicing near the end zone. I wanted to shoot some photos from different
angles. He didn't care where we sat as long as he could eat nachos. We
eventually went back to the VIP section because they were letting fan club
members go down in groups to the sideline and we wanted to make sure we got
down there before practice was over. He noticed some other kids playing catch down there and since we brought footballs (one for autographs and one
smaller one for him to throw) that is where he wanted to be. How could I argue
with that? My son wanted to play catch on the sideline while the Dallas Cowboys
practiced!
We got down there and most of the kids playing football were
around ten years old. That didn't stop my boy from jumping in. He got right in
the middle of them and said, "Catch, Dad!"
Those two words will make a grown man tear up.
It was all I could do to not cry and drop my camera
equipment to the ground in front of thousands of people. We tossed the ball around for about
fifteen minutes and then the Cowboys ended practice. We made our way to
the
barrier separating us from the field to try and get some autographs.
Joining an excited crowd during autograph time is not easy for somebody
with a 42" tall kid. I managed to get one autograph at the wall from
linebacker
Dedrick Harrington, a rookie out of Missouri. My son really wanted to
play
catch again so I let the autograph hungry fans have the wall.
While we were playing catch, one of the quarterbacks
battling to make the team to backup Tony Romo and Brad Johnson, came through the barrier to sign some stuff for the
kids on the sideline and the fans in the stands. I didn't have a clue who this
guy was but since we were tossing the ball a few yards away we went over to the
crowd around him for an autograph on our football. We waited while
the bigger kids got their stuff signed. Then some other bigger kids shoved past
us to get closer. Then some men older than me pushed their way between us. I
could tell my son would rather not be in that crowd and back out there playing
catch so I said in a stern voice to the others, "I've got a four-year old here that has been
waiting patiently for an autograph so quit crowding us out!"
Richard Bartel, the rookie quarterback from Tarleton State,
looked up at me, looked down at my son, tossed him his quarterback towel from
practice, and signed our ball. I thanked him and he said, "You're welcome."
That was the highlight of our trip to training camp this
year. As we walked away, my son dabbed at his forehead with that sweaty towel
like he had just finished his first grueling practice for the Dallas Cowboys.
"Daddy, can I take this towel to bed with me tonight with my
football?" he asked.
"Sure you can," I told him. "But we need to wash that towel first."
He's been carrying that towel around and wearing it like a
quarterback on his waist wherever he goes. This whole week he has wanted to do
nothing but play football. He said that some day I will get to watch him play for
the Dallas Cowboys on TV. He is the future of the Dallas Cowboys. He makes me so proud. Now where did I put that box of tissues...
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Quirkee Voices 
