father knows best

So we played catch – definitely not for the first time, hopefully not for the last time, but this time was different. Because this time, when I left, I took my glove with me. It’s different because this time, I’m not leaving him, he’s leaving me. And I know why, I even understand why, but I don’t have to like it.

It’s always been said ‘fathers playing catch with their sons’. But this was ‘daddy playing catch with his little girl’. The two things I love most in this world are baseball and my dad. And I know that even when they aren’t physically there, they always are with me.

In my mind, the two are inextricably linked together. I learned baseball from my dad. Not how to play, because I’ve never played a single inning much less an entire game, but rather the art of it. He taught me the basics of the game – the rules, the positions, the players, the history, even the trick plays and the reasoning behind them – but more importantly, he taught me the beauty of the game – the crack of the bat on the ball, the gracefulness of a diving catch, the smell of the stadium – not just of game dogs, peanuts, and freshly mowed grass, but the simple aroma of a ballpark awaiting a game to be played. He taught me how every game, like every day, is different; you will always see something that you’ve never seen before. He taught me the terminology – rbi’s, lob’s, slugging percentage, but I think I taught him WHIP and win shares. He taught me that it’s not always necessary to look for the game winning homerun because sometimes it’s the little things – the stolen bases, the squeeze bunts, the sacrifice flies – that make the difference. He taught me about the joy experienced when your team comes from behind in the bottom of the ninth coupled with the pain felt when your team blows yet another opportunity. From this I’ve learned more about life than anything else – it’s in knowing that regardless of the count, the score, the outcome, tomorrow’s another day…and there’s always next year.

I like to think that I know more about baseball than my dad, and maybe I do, probably I do, statistic-wise. But I’ll never know as much as he does about the true game, much as I’ll never know as much as he does about life.

Baseball has been said to be the one constant through all the years. It’s always been something that my dad and I can talk about, although sometimes we have different viewpoints – for instance, he’s forgiven Roger whereas he’ll always be ‘The Fat Bastard’ to me. He doesn’t like Pedro, thinks he’s a cocky smartass, but admits that he can pitch. Yet another example of how much better of a person he is – I can’t forgive Roger and refuse to say that he’s a great pitcher; he overlooks Pedro’s attitude and sees his innate ability.

I guess I could blame him for my otherwise unexplainable undying devotion and love of the Red Sox. When I was younger, I told those who questioned my loyalty to this East Coast team that I was a Sox fan because my grandfather played for them, furthermore explaining that my grandfather was none other than Ted Williams. This seemed so much cooler than just saying ‘because my daddy is’. Now I’m proud to say that I am not only a baseball fan, but a Red Sox fan because of my dad. He’s the one who took us to a game and undertook the responsibility of serving two barely double-digit aged kids beer because we refused to leave the hundred-plus degree stadium. He played catch with us in the front yard until well past sundown, never leaving me out just because I was a girl. And I know that he never will – we’ll play catch again soon; I’ll take my glove with me when I visit. Like a right of passage, I now must grow up and move on – it’s just a symbol, the world is full of them, this one just means the most to me.

New Englanders in particular, but Red Sox fans nationwide, say ‘the Red Sox killed my father and now they’re coming after me’. But yet they still believe, still support this supposedly cursed team. Why? Because their fathers did. And no matter what, father always knows best.

There are places I remember all my life,

Though some have changed.

Some forever, not for better

Some have gone and some remain.

All these places have their moments

Of lovers and friends I still can recall

Some are dead and some are living

In my life I loved them all.

And with all these friends and lovers

There is no one that compares with you

And these memories lose their meaning

When I think of love as something new

And I know I will never lose affection

For people and things that went before

I know I'll often stop and think about them.

In my life I loved you more.

And I know I will never lose affection

For people and things that went before

I know I'll often stop and think about them.

In my life I loved you more

In my life I loved you more.