Tuesday, March 10, 2015

The Longest Dad Day (A Day without Baseball)

     Since that little sandy haired blue eyed boy first showed an interest in America's pastime one thing has been constant.  I've been there.  I was there the day he picked out his first little baseball glove.  I was the one throwing out his first pitch, so to speak.  I was the one that instructed him on the finer arts of a proper baseball swing.  At least proper as I knew it, but I found out later that my baseball logic was slightly flawed.  However, the important thing was that I was there.  I was always there.  From coach pitch superstar to Speedy the hit making, base stealing, wheelin' dealin, Rolex wearing, Limo riding.....wait, sorry I went all Ric Flair for a moment.  But he does have a hard time keeping those alligators down!  Woo!  However, this day I would not be there.  That's right absent from something that I love more than I can even begin to explain.  Why?  You ask.  Well, my darling daughter Maddie has been infected by that jackwagon streptococcus.  My lovely wife had taken care of her for the games on Saturday, and it was only right that I would do the same on Sunday.  As hard as it was to do, I knew that it was the right thing.  My wife enjoys watching old number 7 play ball too, and I took one for the team.  It was hard though, and it was the longest day of my life.

     Maybe one of the hardest things I have ever done was watching my son in full uniform walking out the door, and knowing that I would not be there to watch and cheer him and his teammates on.  Hard day indeed.  It was an emotional rollercoaster that I wasn't sure that I would survive, but immediately I was distracted by a request from my daughter.  Netflix was on the menu, and some mermaid show was the pay off.  Australian mermaids in lieu of watching an RBI Double by my favorite baller of all time?  Yes sir-  those are the cards that I have been dealt, and if I have learned anything from my life it is that I have to play the cards that are dealt regardless of how I feel about them.  To be completely honest though, when I looked at my poor sweet Maddie and her obvious discomfort from the dreaded strep throat it wasn't all that difficult to go all in with the mission at hand.  At least at first.

     The two words that no father wants to receive when his wife and baseball playing son are en route to a an undisclosed ballpark on Championship Sunday- "We're lost."  But, I did receive those words, and yes they were, actually lost.  They say the devil is in the details, and to be fair I did provide the directions that led to them becoming astray.  You can take from that what you want, but I wasn't actually driving the proverbial boat.  SS Minnow, notwithstanding, they were lost and late.  Panic ensued, by me really, not them.  If I am anything I am punctual, and the very thought of being late is nauseating.  Plus, not arriving on time for a baseball game is bad karma.  I tried to help with directions, texted the coach about the expected tardiness, and talked myself out of jumping off the top of the stairs in our home.  My luck I would only break my legs.  I was having a bad day, but then my lovely daughter distracted me with funny looking phlegm that was a side effect of that jackwagon streptococcus.  My wife did, in fact, make it to the ballpark before the game began, and that was a good thing.  The funny looking phlegm, however, was not!

     Then the game began without me there.  I know this because my wife and my buddy Hank were kind enough to send me updates throughout the contest!  I am forever in their debt for this kind gesture.  When a man is down, you have to pick him up, and those updates were my pick me up.  The best I can remember the game went something like this:

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the BBA 11's that day;
They were on the wrong side of the score with but an inning left to play;

But there was no quit in Colebug or Chase, and Austin felt the same;
In fact Tate (The Rocket), Tate 19, Carter, and Logan were in the game;

The Dad's were restless at the game they were viewing;
Chad and Sherry were behind the backstop and Bobby was inquiring of Parker, "What are you doing?!"

Hank was pacing and Mark was in a chair- Bryan was keeping the book all the while like an ace;
Then all of a sudden Seth and Jesse got on base!

There was hope with the parents and the players all the same;
Lindsay, Lisa, Krista, Kim, and my wife Cheryl were intently watching the game;

But how does it all end one has to ask;
This is only second hand information so it's kind of a tough task!

Hold on a minute before I go further into the action;
I still haven't mentioned the contribution of Caiden and Jackson!

Oh, somewhere  in this land the sun is shining bright;
A band is playing, birds are singing and someone is ripping off Casey at the bat, and it ain't right!

Somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
And please don't get mad at me if I left your name out!

     While I am certainly not a poet, I am a fan of baseball, especially if that baseball involves my favorite player of all time:  Jesse Perry #7!  If there is any way possible I do not plan on missing another baseball game that my son plays in, and I may invest in one of those plastic bubble deals that let John Travolta hang out on the beach.  Instead of The Boy in the Plastic Bubble we'll put that jackwagon streptococcus in there.  Play ball!