09-08-2021, 12:09 PM
Dalvin Cook had been on his way to one of the final Vikings workouts of the 2020 season when a FaceTime call upended his life and sent him to the side of the road, stuck silently trying to process the scene unfolding on the screen before him. He thought it was going to be a routine check-in from his grandmother on that Tuesday, four days after Christmas.
Instead, his grandma fought tears trying to explain what was happening. The video revealed more. Cook’s uncle had just stopped performing CPR, a hopeless task at this point. Dalvin’s dad, James, wasn’t breathing and his heart had stopped pumping. Dalvin talked with his grandmother as they awaited an ambulance. She cried. Dalvin tried to tell her it would be OK, but truth was, he didn’t know if it would.
Dalvin’s dad had long been his mentor, both his biggest fan and biggest critic. James and Dalvin’s mother had seven children together, but none had the special connection, Dalvin felt, that he and his dad had. They had made plans to go fishing in a few weeks with Cook’s season soon ending. His dad had seemed fine in recent weeks and was recovering from leg surgery. Dalvin was looking forward to seeing him after a 2020 season that had led to limited contact amid a pandemic.
When Cook woke up earlier that morning, he had a missed call from his dad, one that arrived on his phone shortly before midnight. Cook had thought that was odd. His dad knew he went to bed early during the season. His dad never called that late. Now, Cook wondered what his dad was trying to tell him.
Dalvin was still on FaceTime when the medics arrived at the house and pronounced James Cook dead. He was 46 years old.
Cook’s mind raced. He thought about the Vikings’ season finale that was only five days away and of his goal of reaching 2,000 yards of offense. He was just 82 yards shy of that and maybe, he thought, his dad would’ve wanted him to play. But then he thought about his grandmother, his primary caregiver growing up, who had just held her son as he took his final breaths. He thought about his siblings who didn’t yet know the news. It was Cook’s job to call them and share the news. He sat in the car on the side of the road and phoned each of them, then booked a flight to return to Miami the next day to grieve with his family and organize the funeral.
Finally, Cook thought about himself. Everything seemed to be going his way before that morning. A few months earlier, he had signed a massive $63 million contract, one that could provide generational wealth for a family that didn’t have much growing up in South Florida.
He thought about how his dad had pushed him, prodding that Dalvin credits for helping him get to this point. He needled Dalvin in a way no others could. And he thought about how his dad in the last few months kept telling him how proud he was of him. Those words meant so much. Now his dad was gone and Cook had one other thought.
How would he go on?
James Cook knocked on the window of the room where Dalvin stayed with his siblings around 4 in the morning one Saturday when Cook was young. He held a fishing reel in one hand and a tackle box in the other. He asked the kids who wanted to join him. The other siblings opted for sleep.
“But me just being a curious guy I was like, ‘Why are you waking us up when it’s still dark outside? If you’re going to get up this early, it’s got to be worth something,'” Dalvin said.
He caught a fish on that first expedition with his dad and he was hooked after that. That turned into a regular fishing outing between father and son. They’d fire off casts before the sun rose. Sometimes they’d sit in silence. Other times they’d talk about life. No topics were off the table. They usually got along, joking about the size of the fish the other caught or bragging about who reeled in more.
But James also had a way of pushing Dalvin that no others did. During halftime of one youth game, Dalvin had spotted his dad along the fence and was motioned over. He had fumbled earlier in the game but still had a touchdown and his team held a narrow lead.
“Do you still want to play football?” James asked.
Dalvin was confused. It’s halftime, he thought. “And it’s not like I was having the worst game of my career,” Dalvin said. But James asked again. Do you still want to play football?
Dalvin walked away fuming. He scored four touchdowns in the second half in what turned into a blowout win.
“I don’t know what that did for me,” he said. “It was always the small things with him that I look back on and remember now. That stuff pushed me through every day.”
There are a dozen stories like that, Cook said with a laugh. James went to almost every one of Dalvin’s games. On the rare times he couldn’t go, Dalvin would call him on the bus headed to games. James told him during those calls that the other team was bigger. They were probably faster than Dalvin, too. Dalvin probably couldn’t hang with the guys on the other squad. He was going to get crushed.
“Just getting me mad, getting me going,” Dalvin said. “It was just fun, man.”
Off the football field, Dalvin took a liking to whatever his dad did. James liked pit bulls, so Dalvin does too. James liked old-school cars, so Dalvin does too. Dalvin’s birthday, Aug. 10, was one day before James’. They usually celebrated them together. A few weeks ago, Dalvin’s 26th birthday felt different. He knew what loomed the next day.
“It was different because I felt like we had a special connection,” Cook said. “He had all these kids, but for some reason, we had a special connection. It was always like that.”
Each offseason, Cook rents a house in Miami that’s on the water so he can go fishing before his morning workouts. It’s his way of clearing his head.
But this spring, Cook didn’t know if he wanted to go back. He didn’t know if he wanted the house on the water because fishing would bring back hard memories of his dad. He didn’t know if he wanted to be in Miami and drive by the fields where he has so many memories of his dad.
His siblings talked him into it. They told him they’d join him fishing whenever he wanted. He taught them how to cast the way his dad had done for him years earlier.
“They actually enjoy it now,” Cook said.
Cook also surprised his grandmother with a new house in a nicer neighborhood, one purchased with money from his signing bonus. The old one brought back too many difficult memories. Every time he visited, he stared at the spot where his dad took his final breath. Plus, he wanted to do something for his grandma who took him in as a child, fed him and cared for him. She still had his trophies on the wall when it was time to move out.
“That,” Cook said of his grandma’s old house, “would be the place that really brought the memories up.”
Instead, his grandma fought tears trying to explain what was happening. The video revealed more. Cook’s uncle had just stopped performing CPR, a hopeless task at this point. Dalvin’s dad, James, wasn’t breathing and his heart had stopped pumping. Dalvin talked with his grandmother as they awaited an ambulance. She cried. Dalvin tried to tell her it would be OK, but truth was, he didn’t know if it would.
Dalvin’s dad had long been his mentor, both his biggest fan and biggest critic. James and Dalvin’s mother had seven children together, but none had the special connection, Dalvin felt, that he and his dad had. They had made plans to go fishing in a few weeks with Cook’s season soon ending. His dad had seemed fine in recent weeks and was recovering from leg surgery. Dalvin was looking forward to seeing him after a 2020 season that had led to limited contact amid a pandemic.
When Cook woke up earlier that morning, he had a missed call from his dad, one that arrived on his phone shortly before midnight. Cook had thought that was odd. His dad knew he went to bed early during the season. His dad never called that late. Now, Cook wondered what his dad was trying to tell him.
Dalvin was still on FaceTime when the medics arrived at the house and pronounced James Cook dead. He was 46 years old.
Cook’s mind raced. He thought about the Vikings’ season finale that was only five days away and of his goal of reaching 2,000 yards of offense. He was just 82 yards shy of that and maybe, he thought, his dad would’ve wanted him to play. But then he thought about his grandmother, his primary caregiver growing up, who had just held her son as he took his final breaths. He thought about his siblings who didn’t yet know the news. It was Cook’s job to call them and share the news. He sat in the car on the side of the road and phoned each of them, then booked a flight to return to Miami the next day to grieve with his family and organize the funeral.
Finally, Cook thought about himself. Everything seemed to be going his way before that morning. A few months earlier, he had signed a massive $63 million contract, one that could provide generational wealth for a family that didn’t have much growing up in South Florida.
He thought about how his dad had pushed him, prodding that Dalvin credits for helping him get to this point. He needled Dalvin in a way no others could. And he thought about how his dad in the last few months kept telling him how proud he was of him. Those words meant so much. Now his dad was gone and Cook had one other thought.
How would he go on?
James Cook knocked on the window of the room where Dalvin stayed with his siblings around 4 in the morning one Saturday when Cook was young. He held a fishing reel in one hand and a tackle box in the other. He asked the kids who wanted to join him. The other siblings opted for sleep.
“But me just being a curious guy I was like, ‘Why are you waking us up when it’s still dark outside? If you’re going to get up this early, it’s got to be worth something,'” Dalvin said.
He caught a fish on that first expedition with his dad and he was hooked after that. That turned into a regular fishing outing between father and son. They’d fire off casts before the sun rose. Sometimes they’d sit in silence. Other times they’d talk about life. No topics were off the table. They usually got along, joking about the size of the fish the other caught or bragging about who reeled in more.
But James also had a way of pushing Dalvin that no others did. During halftime of one youth game, Dalvin had spotted his dad along the fence and was motioned over. He had fumbled earlier in the game but still had a touchdown and his team held a narrow lead.
“Do you still want to play football?” James asked.
Dalvin was confused. It’s halftime, he thought. “And it’s not like I was having the worst game of my career,” Dalvin said. But James asked again. Do you still want to play football?
Dalvin walked away fuming. He scored four touchdowns in the second half in what turned into a blowout win.
“I don’t know what that did for me,” he said. “It was always the small things with him that I look back on and remember now. That stuff pushed me through every day.”
There are a dozen stories like that, Cook said with a laugh. James went to almost every one of Dalvin’s games. On the rare times he couldn’t go, Dalvin would call him on the bus headed to games. James told him during those calls that the other team was bigger. They were probably faster than Dalvin, too. Dalvin probably couldn’t hang with the guys on the other squad. He was going to get crushed.
“Just getting me mad, getting me going,” Dalvin said. “It was just fun, man.”
Off the football field, Dalvin took a liking to whatever his dad did. James liked pit bulls, so Dalvin does too. James liked old-school cars, so Dalvin does too. Dalvin’s birthday, Aug. 10, was one day before James’. They usually celebrated them together. A few weeks ago, Dalvin’s 26th birthday felt different. He knew what loomed the next day.
“It was different because I felt like we had a special connection,” Cook said. “He had all these kids, but for some reason, we had a special connection. It was always like that.”
Each offseason, Cook rents a house in Miami that’s on the water so he can go fishing before his morning workouts. It’s his way of clearing his head.
But this spring, Cook didn’t know if he wanted to go back. He didn’t know if he wanted the house on the water because fishing would bring back hard memories of his dad. He didn’t know if he wanted to be in Miami and drive by the fields where he has so many memories of his dad.
His siblings talked him into it. They told him they’d join him fishing whenever he wanted. He taught them how to cast the way his dad had done for him years earlier.
“They actually enjoy it now,” Cook said.
Cook also surprised his grandmother with a new house in a nicer neighborhood, one purchased with money from his signing bonus. The old one brought back too many difficult memories. Every time he visited, he stared at the spot where his dad took his final breath. Plus, he wanted to do something for his grandma who took him in as a child, fed him and cared for him. She still had his trophies on the wall when it was time to move out.
“That,” Cook said of his grandma’s old house, “would be the place that really brought the memories up.”
