My Reflections on Being a Father

KEVIN GOCO

My eldest boy, Jose Andres Goco, was born on May 11, 2012. From the very beginning, I wanted to call him “Pepito,” after my late grandfather, Dr. Jose “Pepe” Goco. I never met my grandfather, but people who knew my lolo always spoke of him with deep admiration—how he was kind, generous, and good-hearted, almost to a fault. Lolo Pepe was a dentist who never turned away those who couldn’t afford to pay, much to the frustration of my Lola, who had to guard the family’s finances.

Before Pepito was born, someone who had known my grandfather shared with me how deeply he had touched her family’s life. Her words moved me, especially since she spoke of him with tears in her eyes—nearly 40 years after his passing. That encounter made me realize the kind of legacy my grandfather left behind. By naming my son “little Pepe,” or Pepito, I hoped he too would be remembered not so much for his accomplishments but for the goodness of his heart.

Looking back, before Pepito came into my life, everything was about me—my career, my dreams, my ambitions. My ego, like that of many young men, was enormous. Life revolved around chasing bigger carrots, climbing higher mountains, and collecting worldly possessions, power, and status that eventually fade away. When I got married, my focus shifted toward my wife, Myra. Yet even then, it sometimes felt like we were simply extending our dating years—watching movies, going on date nights, enjoying DVD marathons—living for each other while still pursuing our own separate goals and careers.

But when Pepito was born, everything changed. I was stunned to realize that I could help bring life into this world, and even more so as this little soul began teaching me what fatherhood truly means. It is not just about providing, but about living a love that is sacrificial, selfless, and rooted in presence. Fatherhood calls for the kind of radical love that Jesus Himself taught. Unlike marriage, where two adults can stand independently, parenthood entrusts you with a soul to guide, a child to raise with values, love, and faith.

I’ll admit—fatherhood is tough, and I am far from the ideal father I long to be. There have been many times when I struggled to give Pepito the quality time he deserved. Distractions, the pandemic, and my own desire for affirmation and achievement often got in the way. The world is always dangling new carrots to chase, and it’s easy to forget the higher calling of being a father. There’s no manual for parenthood—you stumble, make mistakes, and slowly grow alongside your child.

Pepito is now 13 years old. He has grown, and so have I. In many ways, we have shaped each other. The self-centered ego of my younger years has given way to a deeper awareness: the constant call to be more selfless and loving, not just for Pepito, but also for Malaya and Tala, our younger children. I still fall short, but as I grow older, I believe I am learning to become a better father.

My work as an administrator in the country’s largest national sports association often takes me away from home. That absence has made me realize how fleeting and precious my time with Pepito truly is. I remember a mentor once telling me, with deep regret in his voice:

“You only have your children for a brief moment. They are like a train waiting to depart. Once they mature and leave, that’s it. How I wish I could turn back time to spend more moments with my son when it mattered most. Don’t make that same mistake.”

That advice has stayed with me. And providentially, Pepito and I now have baseball as a bridge to strengthen our bond. To my surprise, he has grown to love the sport passionately—even though Iloilo, where we live, is a football province and baseball is rarely televised in the Philippines. In a way, it feels like life has come full circle. Baseball was my grandfather’s favorite game. My dad often told me stories of how Lolo Pepe would take him to watch the Canlubang Sugar Barons at Rizal Baseball Stadium, memories filled with joy. I always wished I could have shared in those moments. Now, watching Pepito fall in love with the same game his great-grandfather cherished, I feel that connection—like he is unknowingly carrying forward a legacy, a love passed down from father to son.

As a father, I know I can always improve. I can always grow in this calling. At this point in my life, I feel God reminding me that the most important thing I can do is to spend more time with my children, especially with Pepito as he enters his teenage years.

So perhaps very soon, by God’s grace, I will choose to step away from chasing the next mountain and focus instead on being more present. I dream of bringing Pepito to watch a Dodgers game—his favorite team, and especially his idol, Shohei Ohtani. And when that day comes, I imagine it won’t just be me and my son together. In some way, I know my Lolo Pepe will be there too—smiling down from above, watching his legacy of love, family, and baseball being carried on in the bond between a father and his son.