William’s father was mad on sport. So since the day William was born, his father pushed him, pushed him, pushed him. William was pushed from one sport’s event to another.
William hated being pushed like that. He got used to it. And he loved his father. His father made him sit and watch the football on television, providing drinks and potato chips. His father made him sit through the basketball, and hockey, and golf. Even a five day cricket match. For his fourteenth birthday, he gave William a special sport’s blanket to snuggle into when he watch sport in the lounge. He said, “I always wanted a son who was into sport. You’re the dream kid.”
All said and done, William didn’t overly mind, especially the drinks and chips. And he knew his father loved him, and his father made it fun. But he hated to be pushed.
One day, suddenly, William’s father dropped dead. There was no one now to push him. William sat in his wheelchair and bawled his eyes out. He loved his father. He needed him.