Sport was the great connection for Scott Russell and his father

My dad died the other day. He was 91 and enjoyed a long and good life.

I'm not the first guy to lose his father, nor will I be the last. But it still hurts because on the surface it seems that an intimate and living connection to the man I most respected has been severed forever.

There is, it seems to me, some common ground out there that spans the generational difference which often threatens to separate us.

It's where we might have gone fishing or shared a simple game . . .