Tiger Woods sinks his improbable eagle putt on 13, and the first thing I do (while I'm at work) is pick up my phone to call home. He does it again on 18, and again I pick up my phone to call home. On the other end, nearly every time, is my father. And without saying hello, we go directly into our conversation. Usually it's something like, "Oh my god! Can you believe that?!?" or "What were they thinking?" or "Man, he's awesome!"

Whether it's baseball, golf, football, basketball, or any other sport for that matter, when something in sports happens my dad is the person I have to speak to. I guess the phone portion began during Game 6 of the 1998 NBA Finals. I was at a friend's house watching the game, and when Jordan sank that memorable shot, the first person I thought of was my dad. So the only logical thing to do was call him, discuss the play and events that just transpired, put them into context, and then move on. From there, it's taken on a mind of its own.

How accustomed are we now to speaking with each other following a sporting event? Well this year after the Master's I went out to dinner with a friend, and while I was there I got a phone call from home. Shortly thereafter I received a text message saying, "Just, are you ok? We never heard from you after the Master's, and wanted to make sure everything was alright."

All I could do was smile because everything was alright. Heck, it was more than alright, it was awesome! To have someone know me so well, and to have formed this relationship that it's expected to talk after an event was truly fantastic.

But while talking on the phone is great, and knowing what the person on the other end is thinking as soon as it rings is even better, the phone is a subsitute for what once was. I can remember as a kid waiting around on a spring day, hoping my dad would get home in time so we could go play catch before dinner. Or on my 10th birthday, him showing up to my Little League game with a brand new Easton Ultra-Light bat (28 in. 19 oz.), giving it to me, and then hitting a double. Or playing football on a fall day practicing our down-out-and up routes, and then trying them out against my older brother. I could go on and on with memories like these, but what it comes down to is that sports truly are an amazing hobby. They can form a bond between father and son (or mother and son too for that matter, my mom is a whole `nother story) that is unbreakable.

So  as we have come upon another Father's Day, I highly recommend grabbing a couple of baseball gloves and a ball, and go out and play catch with your dad, or hit some golf balls with him, or just sit down and watch Tiger make a run at his 14th major. Whatever the case may be, if you can spend time with him, do so, because it's another chance to have a lasting memory. As for me, well, I'll be at work, but I can tell you this much, I know there will be a phone call placed at some point where the conversation starts without hello. Happy Father's Day, Dad, I love you.