Taxes are due to be done. Kids just want to go outside because it's 65 degrees and sunny. Laundry is piling up............"Daddy, can we play baseball?"....."Are you kidding?....yes son, let's just find our gloves and the ball and the bat.....do you have shoes on?.....whoops, we're playing already and I just noticed you don't have pants on!.........sure we can play baseball!" That was me today.
We played..I pitch/you hit 3 times today. It's a great game. I pitch underhand to my son and he rips it way off to my right and I have to chase the ball down the street while Michael runs around the "bases" as if he hit a homerun. He's only 5 years old and he can't hit it that far yet, but if it's off to my right, I'm trotting after that ball down the street. He knows it's going to take me awhile to get it, so he can make it all the way around by the time I get back to the "pitcher's mound".
Let me tell you, I was the first to say, "Last one?" Remind you this happened 3 times today. I'm gassed. He's done too. He crashed early tonite. He had nothing left in the tank after "Harrison steak" and potatoes tonite!
I want nothing more than for my son to love baseball. Last nite while we were watching the USA vs. Netherlands in the World Baseball Classic, he sat in my chair w/me.
He said to me, "Daddy, I love baseball and I like watching it with you. I think this is the first time we've ever watched baseball together and I like it."
I had no reply than a grunted, "Yup." I was so choked up, I had nothing else.
My little guy doesn't realize something......time for some recap.......
My twins were born on the Cub's home opener in 2004. Janie was 4 lbs, 11ozs and Michael was 3lbs, 11ozs. If you've had children you know that the day after they're born they lose a half a pound. Day 2, Michael was only 3lbs, 3ozs and not eating that well. Janie was 4lbs, 3ozs but eating like a champ and was doing great.
That nite I left at midnite.....the nite they were born...it was a Monday....on Tuesday when I get back to the hospital, Janie was already in the room with my wife. My brother and sister in-law were there with my wife and doting over Janie(she's a beautiful girl and was a ray of light as a baby!).
I hugged Janie, held her and kissed my wife and then I disappeared.
I went straight down to NICU where Michael was under the heat lamp. I sat with him for hours. While I was with him the phone in our area rang and the nurse told me it was for me.
It was my wife and she was crying....you see she had left her bed the nite before to see our babies and puked all over NICU because of the drugs she was on after her major surgery to give birth....they weren't too geeked to see her soon after that.....she asked me how Mike was. She was so happy holding our new baby girl but she was so scared about our boy. I've never felt more empathy for her.
You see, I was worried about my boy. Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter with every ounce of my heart, but there will always be something between a father and his son. Granted there will always be something between a father and his daughter but this story kinda works the other way.
I sat with him all night and the next day he was eating better and able to come upstairs to be with his mother and me. The next couple days at the hospital were awesome. We would hold the kids all day long and whenever they got fussy or would want to be fed or changed all we had to do was call the nurses and they took care of it.
When we were leaving I asked if they could come with us and they said they couldn't. Bummer!
Friday, I took the whole family home. It was the scariest drive of my life. Michael was just over 3 pounds and Janie was just over 4 pounds. Neither of them fit in the car seats. I was driving 25mph in a 40mph zone. It was hilarious. My wife said, "There are kids on their bikes passing us!"
Anyway, to make a long story longer....I got everyone home safely. The next day, Saturday, I sat with Michael in my favorite chair , the same chair we were in yesterday, and we watched a day game at Wrigley. He couldn't even keep his head up but it was aaaawwwweeeesooooome for me!
When he said that to me last nite, it brought a tear to my eye because I will never forget watching that first baseball game with him, who at the time wasn't more than 3 and a half pounds of a person.
I'm gassed and my knees are killing me because I chased hits from him all day but you know what?.........it's worth it!
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Did you notice that you wrote "let me tell you"? I wonder who you got that from.
ReplyDeleteLet me tell you....that was a fun post!
ReplyDeleteOkay TJ, you know I love baseball. You are absolutely correct about baseball and passing the torch to the next generation. I don't have to tell you, but the other 5 people that read this blog should know. I have been playing/coaching baseball for at least 30 years. I currently coach 2 teams, one CYO and one travel team. Every year I amke a promise to Gina (my wife) that I will give it up. Uh, this has been going on for the past 5 years.
ReplyDeleteThis year, I have been coaching in the off-season, since October, and I am really getting tired of putting up with the fund-raising, parent's concerns, etc. I keep asking myself why I give up 30, yes 30, hours a week to this pastime. I got my answer on Tuesday afternoon.
It was 60 plus degrees in metro Detroit (notice no one ever says they are from Detroit anymore) and I walked out onto the outfield grass with my team. This was this year's first outdoor practice.I was with my boys (mine and others)and all was right with the world. We were in the sun, playing baseball, laughing and learning. The sights and smells of spring were all around us. The rebirth of tradition was taking place.
I had my 14 year old son, Nathan, and my 6 year old son, Nicholas with me. This was a nostalgic trip down baseball lane. The thoughts and feelings of 30 years of playing this game came rushing back. Nothing else mattered except for passing the knowledge of my experiences on to a group of 18 boys and 3 coaches. If you believe in heaven, this is the closest thing on earth to it. It is called passion. Sorry Gina, I am passionate about baseball and there is nothing I can do about it.
To your point TJ, what you are experiencing when you play baseball with Michael is passion. You feel strongly about something and you get to show your son how to become passionate about the purity of the game. That is the bond of which you wrote. Truly, you appreciate it more than Michael, but he will get it.
Nicholas, at 6, is passionate about the game. He was outside the day the snow melted and put his set of throw-down bases on the grass (read mud) in the backyard. He broke out his wiffle ball and bat and started spring training.This was all done with no encouragement from mom or dad. The kid loves, I mean lllloooovvvveeeessss the game of baseball.
So, when you hear me brag about my boys and their abilities, it is not really about how they play the game, but rather how they love the game. They are creating a strong bond with me, unbeknownst to them, through the game of baseball.
As a teenager, Nathan and I talk about a lot of things. Some things go unsaid, usually the important things. However, baseball has become a great way to pass on knowledge of life to him. He won't listen to me about girls, drugs, etc., because he already knows it all. But, he will listen to me about baseball. Through this, I can weave in life lessons and he gets it. He knows about working hard to reach your goals. He kknows about being part of a team and what it means to not let your team down. And as you said in the latest blog, he knows about never giving up. Success comes to those who work harder at it, with a little luck sprinkled in. Baseball has become a vehicle that I can pass on the things I have learned from my family and friends (and those dirty rotten bastards that I have also known)to my children. Did I mention that I have two beautiful daughters that play softball?
So TJ, as you sat in your chair with Michael, this was the feeling that was coursing through you. Not the love for the game, but your love of what the game can do for you.
For the other 5 people that might read this comment, keep your eye out for Nicholas Bastian. 6 years old, left-handed and recently clocked on the JUGS gun at 51 MPH. and he has an incredibly natural swing and hits with power. But that is whole other side of the game. Sorry Gina, I am probably on the hook for coaching for the foreseeable future! thanks for the opportunity to write this TJ. Talk soon.
Love ya,
Billy
This was posted this morining at 4:37am by one of my closest and dearest friends.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the incredible insight Billy!
You rock Tom.
ReplyDeleteFrom one of your favorite Tim's