Everyone believes their children are the most wonderful kids on the planet.
This proud papa is no different. So, I have to tell you a story.
I grew up in a sports family. If there was a game played, we were either playing in it or we really cared about who was playing in it.
That said, I settled into rooting for three teams as I grew up — The Boston Red Sox, Boston Celtics and New Orleans Saints.
Other than a brief period in the early 80s with the Celtics, life as a sports fan has been tough.
In 2003, I got married.
Thirteen months later, my first child was born, Sarah Parker. Four months after that, the unthinkable happened — the Red Sox won their first World Series in 86 years. We took pictures of my child with Red Sox garb on as we were sure she had been the lucky charm to put the forlorned franchise over the top.
Then Sam was born. The next basketball season, the Celtics won their first NBA title since 1986.
Wow, we were pretty good at this baby thing. I wasn’t sure if they would grow up to be good citizens, but we could sure spur pro sports franchises to good times.
Finally, Margaret Louise was born this past June. I joked soon after that this had to be the year of the Saints.
Until the final play from victory formation by Drew Brees was completed Sunday night, my almost 8-month-old watched with the rest of the family the Miracle in Miami as the Saints won the first Super Bowl in the team’s history.
And while Brees credited his newborn son as the lucky charm for New Orleans, I know the real story.
Three favorite teams, three kids, three titles.
Seems my work is done.
I know my wife believes that.