So tell me, Dad. At the end of the day, if you had to choose, who will it be? Your team or your son?” I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t lose my temper. But my words reverberated through the air with an intensity that caused my father’s face to flush. Crimson washed over his skin like blood seeping into snow. The heart monitor’s beeps increased in frequency until they blended into a stream of noise instead of disparate sounds. He didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. We both knew what his answer was.
