I think the only time my father actually showed interest in my life was the one week I allowed myself to be talked into joining the football team by the coaches.
(they saw a big kid and figured I'd just love running around in the Texas summer in plastic armor.)
Somewhere near the end of the week one of the coaches asked me if I wanted to know what it took to be a good football player.
I was 12, so I didnt know that was a rhetorical question/lead in.
I said "no."
He looked a little surprised and said I better go home then.
So I did.
(I heard the head coach was mad at him for it, he even called my parents. I wouldn't go back though. It seemed like all the football guys were the dumber, trouble causing kids I couldn't stand during the regular school day. Why would I want to spend painful time with them AFTER school?)
You know, If I had put up with those low-class coaches, retard players and boiling heat, I probably would have gotten to go to college for free.
Instead, I chose Anthropology and had to go into serious school-loan debt.
Right then and there, I formally rejected that part of American life.
The people who ask big questions get the full price, people who can throw a football get in for free plus they get a free car and a wad of cash every week for "necessities".
I lived in a roachy, gangland hellhole of an apartment with my sister for four years while we struggled through college. (no car)
I slept with an HK VP70 by the bed and brother, I almost used it more than once.
F*ck football and every other organized sport. They are the parasites of the American educational system.