I shared this with a board member who asked me to post it on the board. It's very long, but dear to my heart.

1 thing to keep in mind-This is amateur writing, don't expect a professional read.

Here Goes:

Just a Game?

As a kid I always felt a strange connection to my dad. I’m sure all kids feel a love and bond, but Dad and I were truly best friends. If he had errands to run, it was a given that I tagged along. Sitting alongside him in the cab of his pickup made me feel like his equal…something I truly longed to be.

At different times in my life, Dad was my Primary Teacher, my Scout Master, my Deacon’s Advisor, My football coach, and my Bishop. We went fishing together, home teaching together, and a thousand other things, but the thing I loved more than anything was going with him to the stadium on a clear fall afternoon to watch football. They say ‘It’s just a game’, but for me it was much, much more. It was my time with Dad!

Most kids get bored to death sitting through a 4 hour game; not me! Dad taught me the rules of the game at a very young age, and I can still recall games and specific plays that occurred when I was 5 years old. The first word I wrote was my name, the second B-Y-U .

Dad was a Cougar die-hard, and when they built the new stadium he bought some great seats that he couldn’t afford. Mom was furious, Dad was scared, and I was excited! Those Glory years of BYU football are some of my fondest memories. My heroes were Steve Young, Mark Bellini, Lakei Heimuli, and other BYU greats. I wanted to play in that stadium more than anything, and after every rare home loss, Dad would say something to the effect of, “when you play down there in [x] years, don’t let that happen”. He said it to give me confidence; I took it as a challenge.

From 1983 thru my Sr. year of high school, Dad and I missed 1 home game (due to a game of my own).



Much of the success I had in football, I attribute to the time spent watching BYU. After a Saturday game, Dad and I would stay up late watching the replay on KBYU, and he’d point out mistakes players were making that most casual fans would be clueless about.

Thanks to Dad, I had a fairly successful high school career, and colleges throughout the West began offering scholarships mid-way through my Sr. year. But I was only interested in one college, and was willing to walk-on to BYU if necessary. Thankfully, they did eventually offer me a scholly, and I went on to have the greatest college experience anyone could possibly imagine. Running out of the tunnel for the first time was one of the most thrilling moments of my life, as was scoring my first touchdown. The camaraderie I had with teammates was something special. We traveled from coast to coast, vacationing in places like San Diego and Honolulu free of dime, yet on every road trip, I had to call Dad the night before the game. Having done his homework, he’d give advice…”keep tabs on that #15, he’ll bring it hard…get to bed, and dream about winning tomorrow”.

Playing 5 years for the Y was incredible. We had some great teams and some that never reached our potential. I loved the feeling of pleasing the crowd…the roar of excitement. But more than ANYTHING, I wanted to make Dad proud.

Following my last game at home, as is tradition, they awarded all the graduating players with a Y blanket. It was that moment, ironically with the stands fairly empty, that was the highlight of my athletic career. They called my name, and as they presented me with the blanket, I looked up in the stands to where I knew Mom and Dad would be sitting. A few thousand fans clapped, except for my parents who were standing, clapping, and being as loud as possible. Dad had a sign that simply read, “We (heart) U”. I lost it! Bawling like a kid, I received the blanket, pointed in their direction to acknowledge that I’d seen them, and left the podium while the next name was presented. I stayed in the locker room for about 2 hours…soaking in the moment, contemplating my athletic career…my time at BYU…the little league games…and my time with Dad.




For the next 10+ years, I took my rightful seat again next to Dad at the stadium. We watched some great BYU teams, and some mediocre teams. Some fantastic athletes came and went…Jenkins, Staley, Morris, Doman…. We were there together in 10-degree weather for Lavell’s final home game, and both of us teared up when they announced the new stadium name.

In the summer of 2004 Dad was diagnosed with Colon cancer. He stayed as active as possible, and rarely complained, but it was clear he was quickly losing strength. Doctors told us it was unlikely he’d make it longer than a year, and that he should really take it easy if he wanted to extend his time as long as possible. By fall, I suggested he give his tickets to a friend or sell them, as it was evident he couldn’t sit through a game out in the weather. He was appalled, and said, “Sell your own ticket if you don’t want to see me at the game!”

The opening game against Notre Dame was hot and miserable. Just getting to our seat was a problem, and by the end of the first quarter, Dad was white as a ghost and shaking uncontrollably. He admitted he shouldn’t be there, and we left for home at half time. Sunday after dinner I said to Mom, “It’s too bad Dad couldn’t sit through just one more great BYU comeback.” She kinda grinned and said, “Boy, I thought you knew him better than that.” She was right--first thing Monday morning Dad got on the phone with the ticket office, asking about handicapped privileges, wheelchair seats, etc.

The next several games it was my privilege to push Dad in his wheelchair up the ramp to the handicapped seats, and take care of him like he had once taken care of me. These are some of my dearest memories, and it’s still an emotional thing for me to think about.

On November 8th, Dad passed away at home in bed. That entire week is still somewhat of a blur to me…we all expected his death to be soon, and yet when it occurs, none of us were truly prepared for the emotions. The funeral was on Wednesday, and I spoke about Dad…his unconditional love of people, his optimistic personality, and his integrity. Thursday and Friday we spent going thru insurance, the will, etc. Dad left me with a humble inheritance…some memorable items, and some things of moderate value. While going through life insurance information, Mom came in through the garage and brought with her an apple box. “This is yours, too”, she said. I opened the box and found it absolutely full of newspaper clippings. Dad had kept every single sports page that even mentioned my name, from little league thru college. My tears were uncontrollable! All I ever wanted was to make Dad proud, and this meant more to me than if he’d left millions of dollars in my name.

The next day was a Saturday…BYU played New Mexico, and I invited my best friend to go along with me. We lost that game…one of the most important games in many years, with a winning record and bowl hopes on the line. Yet somehow, the loss on the field hardly affected me, as I was dealing with a MUCH bigger loss. The fans were the same, and the field was no different than usual, but the atmosphere for me just wasn’t the same. It was the first time I’d EVER been to a game without Dad, and oh, how I missed him.


I’ll be there every home game again this year, but I know it will never again be the same, at least until I have a son old enough to tag along

For the record, I still have that apple box full of clippings-- not as a trophy of my own accomplishments, but as a reminder to never disappoint Dad, to hold his name sacred, and to always make him proud.

They say it’s “just a game”…I suppose they could never fully understand.

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"I love (insert school) and plan to be here for a very, very long time."

-Urban Meyer