For this TT, I thought I'd go way back and reminisce on the days of growing up as a coach's daughter.
I was learning football plays before I learned to walk, talk or even fully see :)
I sported the "My Dad's the Coach, but I'm the boss" shirt while my mom had a matching "wife" version.
My first homecoming mum was much bigger than I was.
A newspaper photographer snapped this picture of us at my first homecoming football game (L).
Then, my final homecoming as a senior we were decked out in red (R).
Here's how my childhood as a coach's daughter went:
Two hour bus ride here.
One hour caravan there.
Playing "house" in the field house on weekends.
Hanging out with high school girls, as a 3rd grader.
Sitting out in the August Texas heat.
Wearing lots of sunblock.
Handing stinky towels to sweaty boys.
Making sure the water bottles are filled.
Skipping school to watch a basketball tournament.
Eating concession stand nachos for dinner.
Eating Mcdonald's hamburgers with the team for dinner #2.
Painfully crying with the loses.
Happily cheering on the wins.
Wouldn't trade my childhood for any other.
"Moving" is another one of those things that most coach's kids experience at least once during their school years. Thank you Dad for being so selfless, sacrificing your coaching career to allow Bethany and I to stay in the school and town we loved. I don't know how I could ever thank you enough for saving me those tears. You were/are a great coach, but you're an even better Dad.