Baseball, huh? Grandpa said, “It’s like watching paint dry,” but when you live with true baseball fans those words are just fuzz in the background; unnoticed and lost behind the voice of the announcer. Despite his dry comments he faithfully followed Grandma to every game she wanted to see and smiled through it because names of players and all the teams were part of his consciousness. It was impossible for it not to seep into his psyche. Also, he loved to make her happy and he did for 33 years.
During this time he agreed to visit the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York; listen to games over the radio on car trips and conversations about who was traded where during Christmas dinner. He endured his step-son’s crazy obsession with the Angels. He watched with pride as she went on the Blue Jays field on Community Living Day. He understood that baseball was a connection which bound her to her father in her childhood and made for a mutual interest with her son.
Now he is gone but the roar of the Blue Jays grows louder each day. While she sat in the stadium during game 5, hailed the best game ever in her eyes, I could not help but believe he had joined the Angels by shining down on her with pure love and a little baseball mischief. He kept her distracted from grief and gave her a chance to remember that life can still hold excitement. Sports fans have always carried strange beliefs and superstitions and finally I have mine.