Nine Innings

The other day, I dusted this article off and found it was appropriate for a warm day just begging for nine innings to be played on it. Baseball is a way of redemption for me that allows me to reminisce, enjoy the present and ponder the future all at the same time. It was written some seven years ago, so keep in mind this was the spring of 2004.

1st Inning
“My son plays third base,” I proudly exclaim to any of my friends who would ask. Jordan is thirteen and playing baseball for his school. Quite frankly, I’m just thrilled that he can walk and the fact that he plays any type of position is a bonus. Only four years, before I wasn’t even sure if he would live or even survive after he sustained injuries in a car accident. Lucky dad.

2nd Inning
I can remember this past spring at one of his games as he came to the plate and after a few pitches he swung and connected and the ball sailed over the left fielder’s head. I was so proud of him. In my mind, it was a miracle he was even alive and now he was running. Deep inside me, as I waved him into second from the first base coach’s box, all I could think about was that’s my kid. Proud dad.

3rd Inning
It was just the other month that I was reading an article about a teenage baseball player who had suffered a serious injury affecting his ability to play for which the father blamed himself. Before the accident, both his parents held out such high hopes that one day he might be a professional ball player. As I read the article further, it was quite apparent that the parents were not dealing well with the loss of this dream as the mother blamed the father and the father felt absolutely guilty. Meanwhile, the son continued to attempt to play but was rendered less than ordinary. Trying to find a bright spot the article ended with the boy stating that if baseball did not work out his second choice would be the computer field. Distressed dad. Smart kid.

4th Inning
A few years ago I was attending one of my son’s fall baseball games. During the game the pitcher on the other team was struggling and the coach, who happened to be his dad, went out to discuss the situation with his son. What transpired next still perplexes me to this day. The father was quite upset and became very enraged with the situation and asked for his son to hand him the ball. The son flung the ball in anger in the dad’s general direction. The boy then proceeded to run as fast as his fifth grade legs would carry him into right field. Subsequently, the father used a few choice words and insulted his son’s manhood and proceeded back into the dugout. Misguided dad.

5th Inning
In my own personal baseball career, my dad never coached me on any of my teams, but as far back as I can recall he has come to almost every game I have ever been in. My most cherished memory is just playing catch with my dad in the backyard as a kid. He would usually say, when asked, that he didn’t have the time, but if I would get his baseball glove out of the bottom of his closet he would try to fit it in. The way my dad made time for me was more important to me than whether I was any good at the sport. Discerning dad.

6th Inning
A couple of weeks ago, I finally experienced something that I had never done in my entire softball career. I hit a homerun over the outfield fence. It felt good but not as fantastic as I thought it would. About 45 minutes later, the sky got very dark and because of the threat of lightning the umpire postponed the game. So, as I drove home under the gray conditions I felt somewhat mixed emotions. I was happy, but disappointed because my son and family were not there to witness the event. Funny how some things don’t seem as important if you don’t have your family there to share it. Melancholy dad.

7th Inning
A friend and fellow softball player once told me something very profound that I have never forgotten. We were talking after a softball game in which we suffered a heart breaking loss. It was a game we should have won by all rights, but due to the fact that it was too dark to see we could have rightfully protested and probably gotten the win. But as Rob and I sat there on that wooden bench we did not discuss such things. I can remember Rob turning to me, “well at least you still have your family to go home to.” Those words hit me right up the middle of my heart. Wise dad.

8th Inning
All Abner Doubleday did was to invent a game that consisted of four bases, a round object and a stick, for this, he is lauded as the father of baseball. Yet, a dad has the ability to do something of much greater importance. For instance, every time a dad takes his child fishing, to a movie, reads a book to them, takes them to a ballgame, or plays a video game with them he is creating a moment of significance in their life. By putting yourself on their level, you show genuine interest that will stand the test of time. Thoughtful dad.

9th Inning
Needless to say, the position my son plays or the fact that he plays baseball is not important at all. I am proud of Jordan because he is my son and have been since the first moment I cradled him in my arms and became his dad. Quite frankly, I’m just thrilled that he can walk and the fact that he plays any type of position is a bonus. And if you ask me now, I would gladly tell you with a big grin, “My son plays anywhere they need him.” Ecstatic dad.

“Things could be worse. Suppose your errors were counted and published every day, like those of a baseball player.” ~ Author Unknown

Simply yours, Swavel

The Wedding

This week is particularly bittersweet because it marks what would be my daughter, Alisha’s, 18th birthday. Although, she is not here, I have discovered it is best to choose to be happy for her where she now resides. Read further and you’ll see what I mean.

As any father can attest, the idea of your daughter’s wedding is tremendously bittersweet. Alisha’s day had arrived. She had given her heart to another man and it wasn’t long after he asked her to stay with him forever.

She was too young, I thought, along with so many other reasons why she was not ready. Truthfully, I was the one who was unprepared for the changes about to take place. It was undeniably painful, but I couldn’t let my feelings get in the way for this was the beginning of something beautiful for her.

There are so many moments I would miss and countless memories to cherish. Gone were the days when she would greet me, as I would come home from work. I could picture those mischievous blue eyes and her untamed tawny-brown hair, tousled from yet another day of child’s play. I would miss our spontaneous car ride conversations, our evening walks, and the nights I would gently hug her until she drifted off to sleep. These simple pleasures of everyday life had become memories all too soon. It wasn’t about me however, I had to think of her, her and the groom.

Accepting my relationship with my daughter would change was heart wrenching, but I took comfort in these special memories. Hesitant as I was to relinquish my position as the man in her life, I knew it was right and was willing. Every detail of the day is etched into my mind permanently and indelibly as if it were cut into stone.

In a quiet moment before the ceremony, she looked especially beautiful to me as I glanced down at her and summoned the courage to give her away. In that quiet time, I shared my heart with her, some secrets only a father can share with his princess.

The wedding was about to begin. Alisha was ready and as her Dad, I had to rise to the occasion. I managed to share a story and a song just for her, although it wasn’t a perfect performance. Tears were mingled with the words, but I knew she loved it just as it was. So, with tears streaming down my cheeks, I kissed her and simply said, "I love you, Alisha", as I gave her hand to the awaiting groom.

After the ceremony, I caught a glimpse of my daughter and the groom, with so many around them waiting to celebrate. She looked my way and waved to me as my little girl always did when she would ride on the train at the mall, with each pass. It was a rare glimpse of heaven.

Before the day was over, I was congratulated and comforted by the guests present for the wedding. I was preparing to leave when a gift was handed to me by one of her attendants. It was from my daughter. She had selected something special for me, from her heart to mine. The flood of emotions I thought I had restrained with such poise on this special day were now uncontrollable. She was now and would forever be my little girl.

As I revisit the events of the day, the bride was absolutely radiant as she had always dreamed she would be on her special day and the groom, he was impeccable. He loved her unconditionally and he would cherish her like no other could. Alisha’s groom gave her everything she could ever hope for; He gave her eternal life. My little girl was just seven years old the day I gave her hand to Jesus.