Happy Father's Day,
Poo!
Forty years of tennis, a lifetime of being right, and somehow still the humble one. Today's all yours, Dad.
His game
Chases down every ball, argues every line call, wins more than he should. The man can play.
The serve
First thing anyone mentions after playing him. Still terrifying.
Never tires
Five sets deep and still fresh, then asks if you've eaten.
A regular
At the courts every weekend. Wins, then stays two hours to chat.
Want a game?
Proper scoring: 15, 30, 40, deuce. First to 4 games wins the set.
Mouse, touch, or ↑ / ↓ to move your racket.
The POO Index
His other sport. The one holding that's never let us down, and the rare time past performance does guarantee future results.
What he's really invested in
Not financial advice. Extremely emotional advice. 💚
Invest in $DAD
Go on, buy a few shares of Dad. The returns here are purely emotional.
The Memories I Hold Onto
Some of my favorite photos of us. ✎ Click a caption to make it yours. It saves in your browser.
home
together
my favorite
the two of us
all of us
good times
love this one
And a thousand more we haven't taken yet. Here's to all of them.
A note, on Father's Day
Dad, I'm not great at saying this stuff out loud. So here it is in writing, where you can keep it.
On the court or in the market, you make it all look easy. You've been my coach, my voice of reason, and the person I want to be. Thank you, Dad.
With all my love, on Father's Day.
One last thing under here. Go on, scratch it.
You're not just good at tennis and stocks. You're my favorite person, full stop. Happy Father's Day, Poo.