Patrick had a dream of doing a great European sports tour in July that included Wimbledon, the British Open, and the Tour de France. He was a sports fan in the purest sense. While he did have loyalties to teams, the NE Patriots in particular, he watched sports not so much for the entertainment value, but more because he marveled at human physical capacity and appreciated true athleticism. He would cheer for any member of the opposing team when he or she completed an amazing feat.

Enjoying professional sports inspired Patrick to get out and play, a trait he inherited from his father, Jim. Jim would read Bud Collins’s tennis column out loud over breakfast, then strap on his Jack Purcells and head to the courts with Patrick, or whoever else would join him. In the summer after Patrick’s diagnosis, we got together with family over Labor Day Weekend. Though tired from chemo and out of practice with a club, he went golfing with his cousin and brothers-in-law (The Outlaws). He was so glad for the time with the men he admired. Jim, having passed away the year before, was with them in spirit, and though I don’t know this for certain, I would bet that they retold Jim’s many great golfing stories as they walked between holes. 

Patrick was affronted by the rash of doping scandals across all sports because he felt that it called into question any achievement. Instead of applauding a record being broken or other personal accomplishment, he felt that people were becoming immediately skeptical and suspected cheating to be uncovered. It was his sincerest wish that Lance Armstrong be innocent of charges, and Patrick, like many, was disappointed when the extensive doping by him and his team was substantiated .

He continued to love the sport of cycling, however, and he rode up our mountain passes with Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwen in his head, narrating his ascent as though he were riding up Col du Tourmalet or Alpe d’Huez: “They have hit this climb so fast I thought they were going to sail off into space!”; “He is riding like a man possessed!”; “He really is a man on a mission today!” I know this because when we would ride together, Patrick would sometimes shout out something akin to these lines (British accent and all) just before jumping out of his saddle and attacking a climb ahead of him.

In Patrick’s memory, I have been following Wimbledon and the Tour this month, and I’ll tune-in to the British Open this weekend. Perhaps when CR is older, we’ll go on that European sports tour and talk about how much her dad would have loved to be there, cheering the indomitable human spirit to victory.

Allez! Allez! Allez!