So I like Baseball….
Anyone that has known me for any length of time knows that I’ve never been a baseball kind of a girl. In fact, before this baseball season I had been to one professional baseball game my entire life and the mere thought of watching a game on TV induced me to spontaneous hives. A few adjectives I used to describe America’s pastime, “boring”, “dull”, “slow”. I just wasn’t interested in the least. My how things have changed.
2010 has been a year of change for me in many ways. Professionally speaking it’s in my best interest to pay attention to what’s going on the baseball diamond however when I sit at home and watch a game from beginning to end, there’s no self serving person on my mind. Those three hours immersed in a game are three hours I get to spend with my Dad.
I was never particularly close to my father. I’m the youngest of three children and there’s a 16 year age gap between my brother and me. When I was born my Dad was 39 years old and a man firmly entrenched in who he’d grown to be. My father drank like a sailor, smoked like a chimney, cursed with religion and loved watching baseball. But he was my Dad.
Family relationships are often complicated. I loved my father because of who he was to me. Without him, my existence is nil. However, I didn’t like him very much. I didn’t crave his attention or long to be with him or around him. I tolerated him. As I became older I realized that I didn’t want to let my father’s moods dictate mine. I can only think of a handful of authentic “good” moments with him.
In 1998, he came to my high school graduation, in 2004 he came to my wedding and sat front and center with my mom (an earlier stroke made it too difficult for him to walk me down the aisle) and in 2003 I had a conversation with him about my newborn baby daughter Samiya. We eventually lived with him and my mom for 10 months, a very special memory I cherish.
My Dad had a stroke in 2001. I remember the way my heart dropped when my sister called me. I was scared and nervous that I wouldn’t make it to see him in time. He survived the stroke, however his independence was all but lost. Where he used to go out in the morning and drink and smoke all day then drive home late in the night, he no longer had that option. He did stop drinking and eventually stopped smoking as well. His speech was also severely impaired. It was hard for him to convey his thoughts except his cursing. He could mutter through a whole sentence and the only words I would understand were “bitch”, “stupid mf,” or some other offensive language. Classic Charlie.
After the stroke, Dad was more or less confined to the house. He spent all his time watching TV. He loved Westerns, smutty talk shows and baseball games. He watched whatever team was on and he watched the whole thing. He would fall asleep but when you tried to turn the channel he would suddenly spring up thus ending your attempt to turn his channel. He watched the games and he cursed at the TV and laughed at his own jokes. I remember walking through the living room many days and years while he watched the games and just saying hi or bye without engaging in any real conversation. He always had his games.
This past February, my Dad had a massive stroke. He never regained consciousness. 14 days after he suffered the stroke he passed away. I’ve experienced a mix of emotions since he died. I’ve realized how much I miss his presence, not so much the hateful things he often said but him being there. I miss the games.
Ever summer for the past 29 years I could count on my father watching a baseball game. He died this year before the baseball season began. I have really missed catching him dosing on the games. After mulling over the same question I’ve been asked by friends and my husband, why am I suddenly into watching baseball, I understand that it makes me feel close to my Dad.
All the years he watched the game I never bothered to take any interest but now when I tune in, I feel like we’re watching it together. I can’t turn back the hands of time and make my relationship with my father picture perfect however I can take this one piece of him that was good and pure and let it fill my heart all summer long.
D
