THE CATCH

If you lived in the Bay Area or were a football fan back in the 1980s, you most likely remember "The Catch". The San Francisco Forty-Niners were on the verge of playing in their first Super Bowl in 1982. Only the despised Dallas Cowboys stood in the way of that milestone. Dwight Clark, number 87, vaulted higher in the end zone than anyone (even him) thought possible as he caught the touchdown pass from quarterback, Joe Montana.

That leaping grab is permanently etched in the minds of Niner fans the world over. And it will forever be known simply as "The Catch". More thoughts on wide receiver Dwight Clark a bit later.

First, my father & I watched that game together. My son was only 5 years old so I'm guessing my mom took him somewhere fun leaving us diehard fans to watch that momentous game with no distractions. Years before my father had made up a ritual believing that his knit 49er hat had special powers that helped his cherished team win big games. We always laid our hats reverently beside us since we didn't want to waste their limited abilities unless it was absolutely necessary. Over the years we all purchased Niner ski caps to continue the tradition.

That Sunday, January 10, 1982, will live forever in 49er fanatics memories. Dwight Clark came down in the back of the end zone with the ball putting the Niners ahead! The defense held the Cowboys scoreless & our beloved team went on to win the first of five Super Bowl victories! We yelled, screamed, jumped up & down while wearing our enchanted hats. It was truly magical & sharing it with my father was a moment that I will always treasure.

We have been blessed in the Bay Area to have extremely successful professional sports teams - the Oakland Athletics, the Oakland Raiders (Boo, I hate them!), the San Francisco Giants & currently the Golden State Warriors. But I think if there was one iconic image of Bay Area sports, it would be Dwight Clark stretching toward the heavens to gracefully grasp that football known as "The Catch".

Dwight Clark was a regular guy. During his 49er career, we had the pleasure of attending autograph sessions featuring Dwight three times. He always smiled & graciously signed each autograph as he interacted with the fans. The final session was at a local Wendy's hamburger joint where he signed my copy of Sports Illustrated that showcased Dwight Clark on the cover just as his hands enveloped the football. It is probably my most prized possession.

About three years ago Dwight Clark was diagnosed with ALS, Lou Gehrig's Disease. That is a debilitating disease that took his ability to walk & otherwise ravished his body but it didn't dampen his spirit. On June 4, 2018, Dwight Clark died at his home in Montana at age 61.

There is a documentary titled "Letters to 87" now showing on our local sports networks. It includes letters from fans who reminisce about "The Catch" & comments from his teammates who all gathered at his bedside about a month prior to his death to share their memories & tell stories about this San Francisco legend. You can probably find it online, too, but be warned & have lots of tissues handy. It's a tearjerker.

Watching "Letters to 87" brought back so many football memories that I shared with my father but none was more memorable than that iconic moment in history forever known as "The Catch". Joe Montana said that Dwight was always fond of reminding him they don't call it "The Throw".

My recollections are bittersweet right now. Dwight Clark was my favorite Forty-Niner ever but he died way too young from a terrible disease. He was an unlikely star receiver on a championship team. He always had time for the fans & seemed genuinely happy to have enjoyed the success that he did.

My father died not quite 8 weeks after Dwight. Although my dad was almost 90 & we knew his health was far from great, there just doesn't seem to be a good time to lose your last parent. I remember mentioning Dwight Clark's passing to my dad & we briefly discussed "The Catch" one last time. Now, they are both gone but rest assured they will live on in my memories for the remainder of my life.

THANKS FOR THE MEMORIES

Humor was the way my dad coped with most things in life. Two ER visits ago, the doctor walked into the room & noticing my dad's half foot asked, "Why did you have your foot amputated?" My father replied, "For fun." I giggled & the nurse laughed out loud saying, "Mine is scheduled for next week." The doctor just semi-glared at all of us. That gives you an idea of my father's off beat sense of humor.

Over the years with all his health issues that I described in my last post, we always said if he ever stops eating & loses his sense of humor, we are in trouble. He would be in ICU throwing up blood & the nurse asked how he was doing. He always answered "I'm fine." Over, over & over, "I'm fine" no matter what was happening. My dad was never one to complain. We joked that we we're putting that on his tombstone, "I'm fine." But, alas, there will be no tombstone. His ashes will be scattered with my mother's in Sea Ranch according to his wishes.

My sister & I had numerous adventures with our dad - most I assume were to get us out of the house so my mother didn't kill us. Late afternoon bike rides were common. One day the three of us decided to play polo on our bikes taking some croquet mallets & a softball to the local school. About two minutes into the first chukker, I peddled furiously & swung my mallet which lodged in the spokes of the bike! My bike stopped instantly & I flew over the handlebars scraping the hell out of myself but no lasting damage was done. That ended our polo career.

Another day while hiking in the Hayward hills long before organized trails we were chased by a cow with a calf. I'm guessing I was about 9 or 10 & my sister 4 or 5. My dad scooped up my sister & yelled "Run!" We made it to the fence with the cow in hot pursuit. My dad dropped my sister on the other side & boosted me over before climbing it himself as the cow angrily approached. Just another funny story to laugh at years later.

As we all gathered at my dad's house last weekend my sister brought up another memory. Our dad was deathly afraid of snakes. He couldn't even look at one on TV without freaking out. One day as kids we were having a family picnic at a park in the hills. While my mother set up the meal, my dad, Karen & I went for a walk in the woods. Apparently, my dad saw a snake & took off running abandoning his kids! We followed suit running after him. My recollection is that my mom was none too pleased at his "save myself" actions.

My dad spent hours teaching me to throw, catch & hit a ball. I can't remember a time when I didn't know the rules of baseball. I still smile when I recall bundling up to attend a Giants night game in chilly Candlestick Park with my dad.  As adults he & I could flick between three channels with the TV remote watching football or basketball games. Our biggest connection was always sports. Several years ago, Lou took me to the Indy 500 auto race. That was the one sporting event my dad always wanted to attend & he was able to live vicariously through me.

I learned to drive on his four speed 1960 MG sports car. Cars were always my dad's pride & joy. At age 13 or 14 I recall sitting in the MG in the garage on weekend mornings practicing shifting. My dad was a great driving instructor patiently enduring the hours as I jerked & killed the car perfecting the ability to operate the clutch & gear shift. Darrin credits my dad with ultimately teaching him the fine art of shifting smoothly.

Along with kind & caring, the word that comes up over & over when people talk about my dad is "generous". My father was indeed a generous man always saying "put lunch on my card" or "take the money out of my account." He was also generous with his time & convictions. I don't ever remember my dad saying "no" to anything. As we spoke about what do with all his stuff, we decided to simply give it all away in his honor.

His 20 year old Pontiac Grand Prix went to the couple who cared for him full time a couple years ago & currently spent every other weekend with him. They were blown away by our father's generosity manifested through his daughters & grandson. His 42" flat screen TV went to his new caregiver. Darrin put his furniture on Facebook Marketplace for free & by the afternoon he had found a deserving woman who pulled up in a pickup truck & happily took it all assuring us it would have a good home.

We went through our pecking order - daughters, grandson, caregivers - as we divvied up most of his possessions. I loved when someone would say, "Is this table spoken for?" & I could answer, "It's yours." The little bit of money we gave up not selling things was more than made up for by the warm, wonderful feeling of continuing my father's legacy of generosity. Yes, we will miss him but our fond memories will carry on for our lifetimes.

A LIFE WELL LIVED

My father, Ronald Bray, passed away a week ago just a couple months shy of his 90th birthday. Everyone loved my father & no one had a bad word to say about him. He had a wonderful sense of humor, was an avid sports fan & a genuinely good person. He was a great fast pitch softball pitcher, a self taught golfer, a tennis player &, boy, did he love his cars!

His health had suffered in the past 20 years beginning with a brain stem stroke at age 69. Most people die from those but my dad recovered, drove again & accepted his limitations. Five years later he had back surgery & contracted MRSA. I remember the surgeon telling him, "Worst case we will stop your problem where it is." That wasn't the worst case at all, after the second surgery to combat the MRSA, he never walked without a walker again. But he never complained.

A few years later he was diagnosed with Normal Pressure Hydrocephalus necessitating brain surgery to insert a shunt into his brain that drained into his abdomen. Not long after that a cellulitis infection ultimately caused his left foot to be partially amputated. That was a three year ordeal that finally healed thanks to a wonderful podiatrist with faith. All this time my father accepted his limited abilities & the fact that he needed live in care. His brain still functioned well & he was pretty sharp until this past year. Even then he wasn't really bad just not himself anymore.

The final thing that got him somewhat down was needing a catheter all the time. He really didn't like that but it was a fact of his life. I was always amazed at what he went through & just kept plugging along. He was always willing to share a glass of wine with me & watch some sports. I called him the Energizer Bunny - he kept going & going. With similar limitations, I would have likely been throwing things & screaming but he never once seemed to let it get to him.

The interesting thing is that what ultimately got him was a massive heart attack. There was never a hint of heart disease until about a year ago & it was really minor. We had been to a cardiologist twice & both times he said it looks good, come back in six months.

Last Sunday afternoon his caregivers stepped out for 20 minutes (which was perfectly fine) & returned to find him on the floor not breathing. The caregiver & paramedics performed CPR & got him to the ER. Lou & I headed out immediately. When we arrived he was being kept alive with machines which we knew my father did not want at all. I was able to spend about 15 minutes holding his hand & talking to him. There was no indication that he knew I was there BUT I am choosing to believe on some level he knew. I then told the doctor to remove the tube & he breathed for another 10 minutes before leaving this world.

I was so grateful to be with him during his last minutes on earth. We visited him that morning & he seemed perfectly fine. It is comforting to know that he only suffered maybe a minute or two at most & then was unconscious. Yes, it was shocking that it happened so quickly but, honestly, what better way to leave this life?

He knew that I was okay after my hip replacement surgery. I had seen him three times in the ten days since surgery - I made a point of letting him see that I was making progress & starting to recover. I understood that I was HIS kid having surgery & I knew how I felt when MY kid was having surgery just a few months ago.

I can honestly say, I don't have a single regret - not one. I did everything I could for my father these past 15 years. I kept my promise to do everything in my power to keep him out of a nursing home. I was there for him up until the end. On the drive back home, literally only two hours after the initial phone call, I felt a real sense of relief & peace that he was no longer suffering. Of course, I have had my moments when something will trigger some tears through the smiles, but it is all good stuff. Sure, I miss him. Not a day goes by that I don't think, "Oh, I need to remember to tell my dad that."

In a few days I will share what my sister, my son & I came up with as bit of a tribute & maybe a sort of legacy to honor the type of man my father was in this world. He was a special man & I am honored to be his daughter.