For some reason, all Sam's away games seem to be played on mountain tops. It's bloody freezing on the sidelines. Even when I'm wearing two coats. Just call me Daddy Two Coats. Or... maybe Dad Two Coats.
You see, I've noticed that whenever Sam is around his footballing mates, I cease being Daddy - the name he's called me for the past 8 years, the badge I wear with pride. Now I'm merely the somehow less intimate, already growing distant every day "Dad". Back in the car, or at home, I'll revert to being Daddy... but out there on the pitch. I'm just Dad.
Rites of passage don't just affect the young. As Brad Paisley says, There's A Last Time For Everything... I wonder how long it'll be before I cease to be Daddy forever?
Some consider Don't Cry Daddy to be Elvis at his most mawkish. Not me. I reckon he takes Mac Davis's song and injects genuine tragedy via a tender and sincere performance. Further evidence that Elvis was the Prince of Pathos, as well as the King of Rock n Roll.
Excuse me. Something in my eye...
The -dy suffix is getting rarer at New Amusements HQ too; NA Minor is a few years older than Sam, so I should probably be glad to still get it at all.
ReplyDeleteThis song is too much. Every time.
ReplyDeleteA sincere performance from Elvis and not mawkish in my opinion at all. Then again I am a fan.
ReplyDeleteLooking back DD was 8 in 2004 and I that was the best year of her childhood for our family, for lots of reasons. A great age so savour it. Probably the last year she called me Mummy too.