Everyone knew my dad. Maybe he was your dentist. Maybe your neighbour. Maybe your friend. Maybe you just sat beside him at a Blue Jays game one time and came away feeling like you had known him for years. He was that kind of guy.
My dad passed away on Friday. Pancreatic cancer. He was 85. Four months ago, he was as young as an 85-year-old could be: Life of the party, exercising regularly, running around to all of his grandchildren’s events. Being Arnie was a full-time job, and he was outstanding at it.
His passing has made me think, and cry, and be grateful, and cry some more, and most of all, realize how lucky I was to be his son. Sports was a big part of our bond; from the day I was born until the day he died.
My dad grew up in Toronto. He was on the Harbord Collegiate basketball teams that won two city championships back in the 1950s. As a kid, I remember him showing me a pretty sweet lefthanded sky hook out on the driveway. His family moved to Windsor, Ont., in the ‘50s, and my dad enrolled at the University of Detroit. He thought, ‘What the heck, why not try to walk on to the basketball team?’, only to get randomly paired up on Day 1 with Dave DeBusschere, as in future Hall of Famer Dave DeBusschere, a member of the NBA’s 75th anniversary team and a two-time champion with the New York Knicks.
Goodbye hoop dreams, hello dentistry.
Dan’s father, Arnie Shulman, on the Harbord Collegiate Junior Basketball team in 1953-54. Arnie is in the second row, third from the right.
He went through undergrad and dental school in Detroit, moved back to Toronto, met my mom, and started a family: Me and then my two sisters. I’m sure our births were three of the greatest days of his life, but I would bet April 7, 1977, the date of the first-ever Blue Jays game, was right up there too. No one loved the Jays more than my dad. He would never miss a pitch … except when the other team was threatening. Then he would sit in the dark in the bathroom until my mom told him it was safe to come out, or — if things got really tense — he would leave their condo and get in the elevator and ride up and down for a while until things blew over. Neither of those stories are exaggerated at all. He was hardcore, high-stress, live-and-die with every pitch. Truly as big a fan of the Jays as you would ever meet.
And then his son happened to grow up and become a Blue Jays broadcaster. I feel so blessed that what I happened to do for a living gave him so much enjoyment. I remember in 1995, my first year calling Blue Jay games, when I brought my mom and dad down to SkyDome and they got a tour of the TV truck, and hung out in the booth for a while during the game. Seeing them so happy made me so grateful to have wound up doing something that was so fun for them.
And when he was home, my dad would watch every game I did — Blue Jays, ESPN, baseball, basketball, you name it. ESPN games aren’t always easy to find in Canada and sometimes he would really have to search, but he would find them, and I would always get a text just as the game was starting, saying something like:
YOUR GAME
Found it!
Channel 437
He sent something like that. Every. Single. Game.
Arnie Shulman, a Blue Jays fan since Day 1.
My mom and dad’s three children eventually produced eight grandchildren — seven boys and one girl. The oldest grandchild is 28, the youngest almost three. My dad loved them all so much, and unconditionally. He and my mom went to hockey games, baseball games, rugby games, piano recitals, you name it. It always felt like my parents were the honorary grandparents of whatever team or group the grandkids were a part of. The messages I have received from friends of my kids, or people who sat in the stands with him at my sons’ hockey or baseball games, years and years ago, have truly blown me away.
On Thursday, when it was clear he didn’t have much time left, everyone in the family converged on my parents’ place to say their goodbyes. My dad summoned up every bit of strength that he had. By that point, he was sleeping almost all the time, but on Thursday, he was awake for hours on end. One by one, his grandkids came in and he spent time with them, told them how much he loved them, and shared some final moments together. The next day, he was gone. He was the best dad and grandfather he could be, right to the end.
He lived to 85 years old and was married to my wonderful mom for 57 years, raised three children and revelled in their eight grandchildren. That, to borrow a sports phrase, is a tape-measure home run of a life. My dad knew that, and lived his life that way every single day. Everyone in the family, every friend he had, will tell you the same thing — they don’t come any better than Arn. Every life he touched, was better for it. Dad, we all love you so much and you will live within all of us forever.
And I know you’ll be with me for every Blue Jays game I call from now on.
Arnie Shulman with his wife Ellie and six of their eight grandchildren.<
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