The Pride and Prejudice of a College Dad’s Journey
There’s something profoundly human about the way we project our dreams onto our children, only to watch them chart their own course. As a father, I’ve grappled with this reality in ways that are both humbling and hilarious. My son Quinn’s journey from a wide-eyed Texas A&M fan to a proud LSU graduate is more than a story about college choices—it’s a tale of identity, independence, and the unexpected ways we find pride in our kids’ decisions, even when they’re not the ones we envisioned.
The Early Years: A Fan’s Fandom
Quinn’s love for Texas A&M was almost inevitable. Growing up in a household where A&M football was gospel, he idolized players like Johnny Manziel and Ben Malena. His first college game was an A&M blowout, and he even served as a basketball team manager for the Aggies. Personally, I think this early immersion shaped his identity in ways that went beyond sports. It was about belonging, about being part of something bigger than himself.
But what many people don’t realize is that fandom is often a phase, especially for kids. Quinn’s passion for A&M was real, but it wasn’t permanent. As he grew taller, stronger, and more sarcastic (a trait I’m still debating whether to take credit for), his perspective shifted. By high school, he was ready to explore beyond the familiar. This raises a deeper question: How much of our children’s identities are truly theirs, and how much do we impose?
The Great College Debate
When Quinn started applying to colleges, I was convinced he’d end up at A&M. It was close to home, affordable, and, well, my choice. But Quinn had other plans. He wanted to experience life elsewhere, a decision my wife, Irma, wholeheartedly supported. From my perspective, this was both admirable and terrifying. Admirable because it showed courage, terrifying because it meant letting go of control.
What makes this particularly fascinating is how Quinn’s decision-making process mirrored his personality. He wasn’t swayed by practicality alone. When Mississippi State offered a scholarship that could’ve eliminated his debt, he initially agreed—only to backtrack an hour later. “I don’t want to go there,” he said flatly. It’s a detail that I find especially interesting—how even in the face of financial security, he prioritized his gut feeling.
LSU: The Unexpected Choice
When Quinn chose LSU, I was torn. On one hand, I was proud of his independence. On the other, I was disgusted—not at him, but at myself for feeling disappointed. It’s a strange paradox: we want our kids to be their own people, but we also want them to reflect our values. If you take a step back and think about it, this tension is at the heart of every parent-child relationship.
What this really suggests is that pride isn’t a static emotion. It evolves. When Quinn joined a fraternity, I was skeptical. Frat boys? Really? But then a dozen of them showed up at my house for the LSU-A&M game, and I realized they weren’t the stereotypes I’d imagined. They were smart, funny, and genuinely supportive of Quinn. One thing that immediately stands out is how quickly we judge based on preconceptions, only to be proven wrong.
The Rivalry: A Father’s Dilemma
The LSU-A&M rivalry became a microcosm of our relationship. Quinn’s frat brothers would taunt me about A&M’s chances, and I’d warn them not to underestimate the Aggies. When A&M pulled off an upset, I wanted to gloat—but seeing Quinn’s disappointment, I held back. In my opinion, this is where parenting gets tricky. Do you celebrate your team’s victory, or do you console your son’s loss?
What many people don’t realize is that rivalries are as much about connection as they are about competition. Quinn and I bonded over these games, even when we were on opposite sides. Last year, after A&M’s 49-25 win at LSU, Quinn avoided me but sent a series of vulgar texts about LSU’s coach. I laughed—a lot. It’s moments like these that remind me: the relationship matters more than the score.
Graduation: A New Kind of Pride
This Friday, Quinn graduates with a degree in finance. He’ll be the first in my family to earn a college degree, a milestone that fills me with a pride I can’t fully articulate. Sure, I would’ve loved to buy him an A&M class ring, but instead, I’m wearing a $25 LSU dad T-shirt—and I’ll be damned proud to wear it.
From my perspective, this journey has taught me that pride isn’t about control or expectations. It’s about witnessing your child become the person they’re meant to be, even if it’s not the person you imagined. Personally, I think this is the hardest and most rewarding part of parenting.
The Bigger Picture
If you take a step back and think about it, Quinn’s story is a microcosm of a larger cultural shift. Kids today are less likely to follow in their parents’ footsteps, and that’s not a bad thing. It’s a sign of progress, of a world where individuality is valued over conformity.
One thing that immediately stands out is how much we underestimate the next generation. Quinn’s decision to pursue his own path, despite the financial and emotional challenges, is a testament to his resilience. What this really suggests is that we should trust our kids more—not just to make the right choices, but to handle the consequences of those choices.
Final Thoughts
As Quinn starts his career in Phoenix, I’m reminded of how quickly time passes. The little boy who once idolized Johnny Manziel is now a college graduate, ready to take on the world. In my opinion, this is the ultimate goal of parenting: to raise someone who doesn’t need you anymore.
So, here’s to Quinn—the wiseass, the wanderer, the LSU grad. I couldn’t be prouder. And to all the parents out there grappling with their kids’ choices: trust the process. Pride has a way of surprising you when you least expect it.
