For those of you that do not know, my father died from esophageal cancer at the age of 55 on April 6, 2000. I usually update my profile picture of the two of us on the anniversary of his death once a year but really don't speak of him much other than that. People tend to be uncomfortable when speaking of loved ones that have passed, no matter how "okay" you reassure them it is. In fact, I love speaking of him. He is, hands down, the greatest man I've ever known.
My father was not a well educated man by society's terms. He came to America at the age of 12 on a boat from a small village in the Tuscan mountains of Italy, not knowing a word of English. I remember my father having me write some of his business letters and memos when I was in high school because his written English was not great. To me, that is what makes this letter amazing. It wasn't my father's perfect "American" that won the hearts of so many. Hard work and tenacity made my father a successful man. His wisdom came from living life and understanding people. Understanding people was my father and I's "6th sense," as he liked to joke.
As I read this handwritten letter, through admittedly tearing eyes, his thoughts stood tall, strong and supportive. It's been a LONG time since I've spoken to my father - nearly 15 years. This letter was as if I was sitting down next to him and he was giving me life advise. A rare find and a cherished moment. I just had to immortalize it.
Does anyone remember Dexter Carter? He was a 1st round draft pick out of Florida that ended up being regarded as not so great of a pick. I don't remember the game my dad refers to in the letter. Hell, I didn't remember Dexter Carter, either. I had to Google him. I was about 14 and much more interested in boys and being irritated my dad made me stay in on Sundays to snack on guacamole and watch football after my mom dragged me to church. Anyhow, Carter dropped a couple footballs in one game against the Falcons. If you want a refresher of the game I'm talking about, I found this article archived by the New York Times. Obviously feeling bad for the guy, my dad wrote him this letter:
December 1993
Dear Mr. Carter
I wanted to write to you because I know you felt bad with what happened in the game with the Falcons. What you have to remember is that history tells us that there was only one perfect man and they nailed him to a cross. Of course none of us have to worry about that. We don’t come close to him but we are expected to do our best and you give me the impression that you do in every game. As far as the drops in that game it’s very normal. The strange thing was that they came back to back in that game. Now you may go ten or fifteen games without one bad thing happening to you, or it may happen next week. Unfortunately, even when we do our best life comes with a certain percentage of muffs. This goes along with being human.
No one person can win or lose a football game. Only a team can do that. And usually when played as a team more games are won. This is why the 49ers win so much.
I saw the team work again when those nasty things accused with the Falcons. Everyone on the team seemed to feel bad, not because the game was lost… instead it was coming from the sharing of your sadness.
It’s easy to share joyous times, not so easy to share the sadness unless you are a team. You are a great bunch of players and you notice I said bunch not eleven. If I put it in numbers it should be forty seven. Because all forty seven have to be equally ready every week and I believe this is being done. I know I will be watching the 49ers in the Super Bowl.
The 49ers are made up of two teams: players and personnel of every day operations. And they both need each other to make everything work. Of course you have the two best head coaches in the league: DeBartolo for operations and Seifert for the players. So believe in yourself and your team that will bring the big trophy to San Francisco. I’m part of the third team and I believe that you will win the Super Bowl.
Have a great Christmas and New year. I can’t be there Christmas day. I’m stuck at home until my back gets well. I will be there the 3rd of January for the last season game, and the playoff games.
To get this kind of gift at this point in life... maybe I'm just being dramatic but it FEELS like I won the lottery. I'm having a difficult time putting into words what I'm feeling tonight. I wish I could justly describe this unexpected pleasure, but I cannot.
To my family and friends that may remember him, please enjoy a little chat with my father. To my friends that never got a chance to meet him: THIS is my father. This is why I'm proud... not because he wrote a letter to some guy on a football team that had a bad day (though that is commendable) - but the ideas behind what was said in the letter and the way he saw life. I only hope that I can emulate half of that.
