Mosi Tatupu
by John Morgan on Feb 24, 2010 11:28 AM PST
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PrintI don't know how old my dad is. He didn't abandon me as a child. He was the parent that stuck through, and I was the one that fled. My relationship with my father has healed a bit after he moved thousands of miles away, first to California and then to Florida. (I hope I'm not tipping of your creditors dad.)
I think he's older than Mosi Tatupu. I think he turned 58 a few weeks ago. We talk now and again, mostly about sports. I am the only member of our family that still talks to him. He sends me emails super occasionally. His spelling and grammar would make a fourth grade troll blush. My dad dropped out of high school and took to the streets. Before that he was a junior Olympian. He told me he set the Lincoln High record for long jump. He also told me he dropped out of school in junior high. It was always a little hard to know what was real and what fantasy with Kenny Nunchuks. Kenny Nunchuks, incidentally, was real.
My dad was a gifted athlete and my older brother followed in his footsteps. I wasn't bookish but I was odd, a marginal athlete, that hustled onto my baseball teams and my football team. A junior Brian Russell without access to the coach's ear. My dad would help my brother learn how to pitch. I couldn't pitch a tent. I learned about baseball by tossing the ball in the air and catching it. Sports was still the bridge. When I failed to develop, I learned the professional game, and what I couldn't fulfill as a player I could fulfill as a discussion partner.
After my dad and I's cross country scramble to the Northwest, after my brother freaked out on acid and was kicked out for growing pot on his windowsill, it was just my Dad and I alone. If it wasn't for sports, we wouldn't have had a thing to talk about. He takes his politics from whatever talking head he admires (currently, Bill O'Reilly) and takes it seriously for what little he knows. Sorry, dad. Took a lot of things seriously, was a bit of an angry fellow, actually, and we needed something safe, unifying to talk at all.
We had cable, we had the Mariners, we had Fox Sports Northwest and 162 chances a year to sit in peace. We could discuss Tino and Junior and Edgar, and though my dad was never a true Mariners fan, I knew he wanted to share something with me as much as I with him.
He took me to see the Mariners play a double header in Fenway when Seattle was forced on the road because of falling roof tiles. We didn't have any money, so the event was special: A doubleheader for ten bucks, pick your seat. He stuck around when the second game stretched into extra innings and he wanted so badly to leave. We did, but only after Griffey went yard in 11th. We listened to the rest of the game on the radio.
If it wasn't for my dad, I would have never learned to love sports. Knowing sports compensated for my not being able to play sports. Sports gave my dad a piece of what he thought was robbed from him. He was sure he could have been great had his childhood been different. And maybe he could have been. My dad is still one of the greatest athletes I have ever known.
Lofa Tatupu lost his father yesterday. I don't yet know what that's like. When prominent athletes die, I feel incredibly conflicted. Death, in of itself, is sad-maybe more sad than I could ever wrap my head around. But when a stranger dies, even if I know his name and watched him work, when Gaines Adams died or Sean Taylor died, I had no sense of it, nothing to add but, yes, death is sad. But when Mosi Tatupu died, I damn near cried. Fuck it, I did. I just started right now. I don't know anything about Mosi. His name was introduced to me through the Simpsons of all things. Just yesterday, I saw him in the stands while his son kicked ass all over the football field in Super Bowl XL. I don't know a thing about Mosi Tatupu, but I think I know a little about how Lofa feels. And goddamn I wish I could take on a fraction of his burden, but I can't. I think I'll call my dad and tell him I love him though.
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Father-Son relationships are so odd.
Snowflake-ian in their variability, and hallowed in their importance. I’m lucky that I have a great one. I have an anatomy test tomorrow, but tonight I’m going to drink one for Mosi.
Too young. 54 is too damn young.
I wonder if NFL players fully understand that they may be trading a few year run of elite athleticism for a shortened life? The average life span of NFL players is disturbingly short. Never being anywhere close to an elite athlete, I can only wonder if I would make the same trade.
Well said
I could relate. I don’t have any relationship with my father anymore, but when I did, the Seahawks were one of the few things we had in common. In fact, most of my positive memories of the old bastard are of him taking me to Seahawks games at the Kingdome back in the ’80s.
"I hate to break it to you, but there is no big lie, there is no system, the universe is indifferent." -Don Draper
by Johnny Peel (DKSB) on Feb 24, 2010 12:54 PM PST reply actions
My sentiments exactly.
Sports were our bond. My Dad also taught me to grow a passion for Seattle sports teams. He took me to many-a-game in the Kingdome, too. Our relationship has grown, but still functions on a foundation of love for all things Seahawks, Huskies, and Mariners. I will be very sad when my father passes away even though he doesn’t play a prominent role in my life.
R.I.P. Mosi Tatupu
I’ll always remember his name from the Simpsons.
Comming from someone who lost thier father,
I think this is a beautifully written post. I wish I could help take some of his pain away as well. It hurts. I have yet to be back to Seattle since my father died. I hope Lofa handles himself well in these troubling times, I know I didn’t.
Very nice John
Thank you very, very much for that.
I appreciate you sharing with us John.
I hope your dad is doing well.
Though they sink through the Sea, they shall rise again...Death shall have no dominion...
Very well written
Coming from someone who, due to military influence, didn’t have the best relationship with their father growing up i can empathize with you John. The one common bond my father and I have always had, besides serving our country in a time of war, has been sports. He’s been a bengals/reds fan since he was born and I have bled seahawks/mariners blue since I was 9. No matter how crappy things have gone in my life my father has been there with encouragement and support and I can’t imagine a world without him. He’s about the same age as Mosi and it’s a terrifying prospect to imagine a world where I cannot call him on sundays and complain about the blow coverage, or the bias of the refs.My heart and thoughts go out to Lofa and his family. I only hope he knows that the entire hawk nation is behind him in this time of tradgedy.R.I.P Mosi Tatupu.
by dirtydrummerhawk on Feb 24, 2010 3:22 PM PST reply actions
I was in college on a baseball scholarship when my father died.
He coached me in little league. Built a diamond in our pasture when our team couldn’t get enough practice time. Threw BP to me out there tirelessly, time and time again. When I was in high school and on summer league teams, he came to virtually every game (There may have been some he missed but those memories have since faded.) We talked about the game and it’s history and strategy, everything. Our love of baseball together was rivaled only by or mutual passion for the Seahawks. When he died that September my junior year of fall ball, a part of my joy for the game died with him. I didn’t play to earn his respect or approval. I played because we loved the game and we loved each other and it was ours. I’m blessed to have had that kind of relationship. I was grateful when our season ended a year and a half later, I grew to resent every second of the game. I really don’t have any point to all this other than to say it’s not easy to lose a father. My thoughts are with Lofa today and I hope he is able to find a way to keep his father in his heart through football and the joy alive. The way I was not. R.I.P
I'm gonna go calm submissive on your ass.
I remember Mosi
I liked the Pats teams of that era. The Patriot hiking the ball is my first football memory from the 2nd grade. I had pajamas with the AFC team logos, and I simply couldn’t process that Patriots logo. The logo stuck, so I kinda kept up with New England even though I was never what you’d call a fan. If you paid any attention to those Pats teams you knew Tatupu, because it was probably the coolest name in football.
Mosi, the player, was kinda what David Kirtman is—only during an era when guys like Kirtman could still play fullback. Tatupu was kind of Larry Centers before there was a Larry Centers and he was kind of Steve Tasker before there was a Steve Tasker.
I understand he had some difficult times after his career ended. It sucks to lose your dad. I lost mine young, but was blessed enough to have lots of male relatives who filled that role in my life. So condolences to the Tatupu’s and everyone whose life was touched by Mosi.
"Those who fear disorder more than injustice inevitably produce more of both." -- Rev. William Coffin
Well written piece, Mr. Morgan.
Made me reflect upon my own mixed bag of a relationship with my late father. I guess that was the point. Hope you really made that call to your dad – I wish I’d done that when I could have.
I remember watching Mosi play against the hometown Raiders when I was a kid – he was a gamer. Hope Lofa and the Tatupu family are holding up ok.
Honesty.
It makes difficult truths a bit easier to deal with when the people around you care. The fleeting moments that this life offers can barely be summed up by words. However, when one is candidly honest about their feelings, and about their struggles, that is the time most people will come forth in support.
As a heartfelt Christian, I look at death a bit differently than most, but without a doubt no matter who you are, or what your beliefs are, it is a difficult thing to understand. The concept of a person, who once lived and felt this life’s joys and struggles, not being able to feel those joys or struggles makes one think of their own life in a slightly different light.
I would like to thank you John for being so honest here. My prayers are with the Tatupu family, but also with you, and anybody else, as you consider the thought of death as a part of this life.
Wow
I never post… always read you… an English teacher… your most inspired writing I’ve read. I never knew my bio-dad, and sports have always been a place my step dad and I have found a place to bond. Thank you. I think I have a phone call to make also.
We English teachers... use the ellipses... far more than most, I've noticed.
His writing is quite inspiring though. This was a home run.
Bird Law in this country isn't governed by reason.
by Tyler Jorgensen on Feb 26, 2010 12:14 AM PST up reply actions
This is one of the best written blog entries I've read
I read a lot of blogs, and I write a little. Great piece, John.
De Gutibus non disputandum est
by Bearskin Rugburn on Mar 2, 2010 7:16 AM PST reply actions
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