Baseball Means More Than You Think
We were discussing baseball the other day - go figure - my poor wife has to listen to the same discussion every night when all the boys are here.
"The A's have the best record in baseball," Matt.
"I'm not even sure the Yankees are going to make the playoffs," Jake.
"27," Sam.
Then I follow it all up and mention exactly why Sam is right and the other two are dopey bastards.
Yet the photo of me, mom, my niece Andrea and my Mom has been sort of stuck in my mind lately.
Here's another one.
And I was telling my Syracuse great friends about our trip to Yankee Stadium.
"Mom really wanted to see Jeter play there," I said.
And it sort of hit me like a ton of bricks mid-thought.
Mom is a Yankee fan to be sure. A bunch of people have taken to calling her Mrs. Jeter.
Yet I doubt Mom could mention what position they're in or that Betances has a tremendous arm out of the bullpen.
When she sees the Yankees she sees me, and John and Jim, and Carrie Lynn and Corinne...and she especially sees Dad and Jeff.
The recap of the trip to my friends was kind of held up as I mentioned the love Mom has for Jeter.
I remember when Aaron Boone went deep off of Tim Wakefield to send the Yanks to the Series in 2003.
The game had ended at 1:45 in the morning.
I was in a hotel room in Syracuse and I cheered when that ball settled into the left field seats.
Jeff called me.
And Mom beeped in.
We were so excited.
On the NYC trip the players were warming before the game. Jeter was tossing a ball back and forth and he wandered close enough to our seats.
I turned to see if Mom had a beat on him.
And she was crying.
I laughed.
"Why are you crying?" I asked.
She pointed at Jeter and then shrugged.
I guess I knew why, at that moment, but I let it roll around my head awhile longer.
Grandpa Fuzzy loved the Yankees. Dad loved the Yankees. My beautiful wife loves them. My siblings and their kids all love them.
And Mom loves them.
I have two dopey bastards who don't, but that's why baseball is the best.
It's bigger than the game.
And even stupid A-Rod couldn't ruin that.
"The A's have the best record in baseball," Matt.
"I'm not even sure the Yankees are going to make the playoffs," Jake.
"27," Sam.
Then I follow it all up and mention exactly why Sam is right and the other two are dopey bastards.
Yet the photo of me, mom, my niece Andrea and my Mom has been sort of stuck in my mind lately.
Here's another one.
And I was telling my Syracuse great friends about our trip to Yankee Stadium.
"Mom really wanted to see Jeter play there," I said.
And it sort of hit me like a ton of bricks mid-thought.
Mom is a Yankee fan to be sure. A bunch of people have taken to calling her Mrs. Jeter.
Yet I doubt Mom could mention what position they're in or that Betances has a tremendous arm out of the bullpen.
When she sees the Yankees she sees me, and John and Jim, and Carrie Lynn and Corinne...and she especially sees Dad and Jeff.
The recap of the trip to my friends was kind of held up as I mentioned the love Mom has for Jeter.
I remember when Aaron Boone went deep off of Tim Wakefield to send the Yanks to the Series in 2003.
The game had ended at 1:45 in the morning.
I was in a hotel room in Syracuse and I cheered when that ball settled into the left field seats.
Jeff called me.
And Mom beeped in.
We were so excited.
On the NYC trip the players were warming before the game. Jeter was tossing a ball back and forth and he wandered close enough to our seats.
I turned to see if Mom had a beat on him.
And she was crying.
I laughed.
"Why are you crying?" I asked.
She pointed at Jeter and then shrugged.
I guess I knew why, at that moment, but I let it roll around my head awhile longer.
Grandpa Fuzzy loved the Yankees. Dad loved the Yankees. My beautiful wife loves them. My siblings and their kids all love them.
And Mom loves them.
I have two dopey bastards who don't, but that's why baseball is the best.
It's bigger than the game.
And even stupid A-Rod couldn't ruin that.
Comments