Following Dad’s Footsteps
It goes back to the mid-to-late 90’s – 96, 97. See, as a child of the 80’s in southwest Ohio my football exposure was simply this; the laughingstock Cincinnati Bengals or the triplets of the Dallas Cowboys. Well, any kid that is learning the game of football doesn’t want to be bludgeoned over the head with the Bengals, so I was Cowboys fan. Ironically enough, it was a similar path as that of my father.
My dad, Al Yarcho, grew up a Cowboys fan. My grandad, Wayne Yarcho, actually ran in a race against “Bullet” Bob Hayes. Staubach, Dorsett, Hayes, Pearson – those were my dad’s Cowboys. When Tampa Bay got the bid for the Bucs in the 70’s, my newlywed parents were living in St. Pete so my dad adopted the Bucs as his second team. Enter Jerry Jones, exit Tom Landry, exit my father. He swore off the Cowboys and the Bucs became his only team.
Fast forward to me in elementary school, just about to head to middle school, and I became aware that there was more to football than the teams the networks shove down your throat. Like any kid, I decided I wanted to emulate my dad, so I started rooting for those orange Bucs. Just like my dad, I swore of the Cowboys and was in full-blown Bucs mode. However unlike my dad, I didn’t have to deal with an 0-26 streak.
My Bucs came with Warren Sapp, Derrick Brooks, Mike Alstott, and John Lynch. My Bucs came with a Lombardi in 2002. My Bucs came with some swag.
As a father now, there’s very little I enjoy more than sitting down and cheering on the Buccaneers with my son who loves them every bit as much as his daddy and granddad. To have the three of us, three generations, as part of this Bucs family together is such an amazing feeling.
I love the Bucs because, to me, they’re more than a football team. They’re part of my childhood. They’re family.