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When I when I was born I was the I came to get my balls wet shirt. They spoiled me and loved me to no end. Then four years later my brother came along. He was named after my Dad and was the heir apparent. I can remember standing in the driveway feeling confused and somewhat abandoned as my mom left in a taxi to give birth to him. From the day he came home nothing was ever the same again. He was the favorite son. My dad was over the moon with the fact he had a son. Soon the lines became drawn. It became so obvious. My dad would bring him home boxes of baseball cards every day. He bought my brother a mini bike and then a motorcycle and they spent their weekends riding. My brother went with my dad while I went with my mom.
I came to get my balls wet shirt. I remember learning to love football just so I could sit next to him on Sundays and watch the game. I really craved his love and attention but never got it. He never told me he loved me until he got old. And only twice in my entire life did my father ever buy me a gift on his own. I knew my father loved me but he never showed it. Fast forward many years my brother got married and has two children of his own. One boy and one girl. I have often talked with him about the impact my dad had on me and encouraged him to be different from his daughter.