I get asked by my friends why i let myself get so wrapped up in Baseball. Why it matters so much to me and why I freely admit that when the Cubs win the Series i will break down and cry like a child. The answer is a sappy but true one Love. My Paw Paw taught me baseball. I dont just mean how to catch or hit but the lore, the love, the life of Baseball. When i got home from school the first thing he said after Hey Bud was Cubs win or Not today. If the game was still on he would tell me to grab a seat and then who was batting. Watching Baseball with him meant three hours of talking with my Grandfather about life with out realizing that was what we were doing. I was taught so many lessons about how to be, how to act, and how to deal with other people and never had a clue that is what i was learning. He got to hear about my problems and how to handle them in a way very few could get out of me all because i was comfortable watching the game. There are memories of going to card shows and collecting my Ryne Sandberg cards, pouring though monster boxes of cards calling out the ones we needed. Memories of my Grandfather screaming at Turk Wendell not to throw a punch with his pitching hand then to grumble told you so when he hurt himself. During a game with Paw Paw i wasnt the nerdy picked on kid, i wasnt the misfit, and i wasnt angry about it all. I was just a kid enjoying a game. That is why Baseball means so much. The memories of my Grandfather and the new memories i make with my Wife watching games because even now in those three hours of a game everything is ok its just her and I and a baseball game.
Posted on: Wed, 02 Apr 2014 14:35:16 +0000
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