It's the little things Vince Wilfork misses about his dad.
Having Friday night meals of pigs' feet, barbecue chips and orange soda. Pointing to him and mom before games. And talking to him about anything and everything.
"I knew if I called home, he would answer the phone," Wilfork said. "Now I call home, the phone just keeps ringing. I say, 'Pick it up, Dad, where you at?' Then I catch myself. He's not here no more."
David Wilfork died June 5 of kidney failure. Wilfork, who had worked in maintenance for the Palm Beach County recreation department, was just 48.
Vince Wilfork might be 6-foot-2, 326 pounds, but behind all that mass and power is a 20-year-old man who is reflective, sentimental and emotional when he talks about his father.
"Vincent and his dad were very close," said his mom, Barbara Wilfork. "He was a great motivator. And if Vincent had any questions about sports, he would always go to dad. His daddy was good with children, period. He'd encourage the youngsters and neighborhood kids, too. They would come to him a lot. He also coached a youth football team for over 10 years.
"That first ball game, it was hard for Vincent. Before he used to throw his finger up to us or do something like a shake or salute. This time, I was calling his name, but he had his head down in a stare."
Barbara Wilfork has worked two jobs, one of them as a clerk for the Palm Beach County Health Unit. That meant Vince often turned to his father the past few years; and dad always seemed to say the right thing. When Vince sat out six months as he waited to receive his test scores so he could enter Miami, his father told him it might be for the best.
"He told him only the strong will survive," Barbara remembered. "He said, 'If you're weak, you won't make it.' Vincent always remembered that because his father constantly told him that every day."
Less than two years later, Wilfork might turn out to be the strongest defensive lineman on what most people feel is the best defensive line in the country.
In his first start against Florida A&M, Wilfork had two sacks and tied for the team lead in tackles with six, four of them for losses. He also had a half sack against Florida and recorded tackles for losses in both the Florida and Temple games.
Miami coach Larry Coker said football expert and ESPN analyst Bill Parcells paid him a high compliment.
"Parcells said of all the players on his team, he likes Vince Wilfork the best," Coker said.
Santonio Thomas, Wilfork's best friend, said he doesn't bring up Wilfork's father's death much because he knows how much it affects him. Barbara Wilfork added: "He tells me he misses his daddy a lot, whenever he feels comfortable. But he still doesn't say too much. It's still fresh."
David Wilfork had a lot of phrases he liked to impart on his son. Another of his favorites was "One life to live."
That made such an impression on Vince that he had tattoos made on the back of his arms. On one arm is "One life." On the other is "to live."
"He always told me that," Vince said. "You have one life to live. Live it to the fullest. Until this day, I think like it's my last play. I'm one play from getting hurt and ending my career. One play, one play, just one play.
"Growing up with my dad, being with my dad, talking to my dad, it's a big loss for me."
Knowing his father was sick, Vince tried to make him feel better by driving him around in their hometown of Lantana. When he found a picture of the two after the Miami spring game, he put it in a frame.
"Vincent put it by his daddy's favorite chair on a table," Barbara Wilfork said. "He put it at an angle where his daddy could see it."
Three days before his father died, Vince brought his national championship ring for his father to wear. He knew his dad didn't have much time to live and he wanted to make his final hours as pain-free as possible.
"That Sunday, I looked at him and something told me to give it to him," Wilfork said. "He was half-asleep, but I made sure he woke up and realized what I was doing. I put it on his hand and everything.
"I kind of felt he was leaving. The way he talked, the way he was acting, I knew, but I didn't want to believe. Until this day, I don't want to believe. But it's reality. I mean, he was like my best friend, slash brother, slash mother, slash doctor, slash mentor. He was everything to me."
Barbara Wilfork said wearing the ring brought her husband much joy in his final days.
"He was so happy that Vincent came to see him," she said. "So happy."
