meditations on sports, life, and death.
they say it's easier to talk to strangers. i agree with that. seeing as how most of you reading this are people i will never meet, i'd like to share some thoughts that sort of fit with the spirit of this blog. this is a deeper ponderance that is also cathartic for me.
sports fandom is hereditary. most people don't wake up one day in their cozy homes in western massachusetts and say "hey, i'm going to be a packers fan!". most of us get it from someone. for me, it was my mom's side of the family. football was all my mother, but baseball was my grandpa. he had hats and keychains and mugs and coasters and ashtrays with the cubs logo. he watched every game.
he passed away on friday, and since then i've talked to a lot of family. the memories that made me whimper most was the ones about his cubbies. my uncle jim observed that you could tell the outcome of a cubs game by the amount of empties by his big blue recliner. if they were piled high, they lost. if they were piled high and the jim beam was on the kitchen table, it was an extra innings loss. dusty getting fired was what he crowed about this winter. he was in the icu on thanksgiving and he was still talking about it. snorting and saying something about "well at least they got rid of baker, that man was an idiot". i've been going through papers and pictures, trying to find documents and make a memorial collage (which is an art, by the way). turns out, he played baseball for a long time when he was younger, from 11 until at least age 30. so when he started wailing on the cubs, he knew what the hell he was talking about. which is just like him, knowing everything but not tipping his hand. the worst part of this morning was when my cousin put his friendly confines keychain on the white satin lining of the casket. that thing was on his keychain from the day he got it in the 80s until a few months ago when he let my mom have the keys. it sat on the kitchen table after that, yellowed and smelling like smoke.
closing thoughts: death is hard, life is harder. sports help us get through it all. and if the cubs win a pennant this year, i'll probably start laughing and crying all at once.
sports fandom is hereditary. most people don't wake up one day in their cozy homes in western massachusetts and say "hey, i'm going to be a packers fan!". most of us get it from someone. for me, it was my mom's side of the family. football was all my mother, but baseball was my grandpa. he had hats and keychains and mugs and coasters and ashtrays with the cubs logo. he watched every game.
he passed away on friday, and since then i've talked to a lot of family. the memories that made me whimper most was the ones about his cubbies. my uncle jim observed that you could tell the outcome of a cubs game by the amount of empties by his big blue recliner. if they were piled high, they lost. if they were piled high and the jim beam was on the kitchen table, it was an extra innings loss. dusty getting fired was what he crowed about this winter. he was in the icu on thanksgiving and he was still talking about it. snorting and saying something about "well at least they got rid of baker, that man was an idiot". i've been going through papers and pictures, trying to find documents and make a memorial collage (which is an art, by the way). turns out, he played baseball for a long time when he was younger, from 11 until at least age 30. so when he started wailing on the cubs, he knew what the hell he was talking about. which is just like him, knowing everything but not tipping his hand. the worst part of this morning was when my cousin put his friendly confines keychain on the white satin lining of the casket. that thing was on his keychain from the day he got it in the 80s until a few months ago when he let my mom have the keys. it sat on the kitchen table after that, yellowed and smelling like smoke.
closing thoughts: death is hard, life is harder. sports help us get through it all. and if the cubs win a pennant this year, i'll probably start laughing and crying all at once.
posted by Emily at 12:10 AM
4 Comments:
not out of place at all, em -- it's beautiful, actually. and the jab at jeff is a bonus point.
I just finished Why My Wife Thinks I'm an Idiot. Toward the end of the book, Mike Greenberg talked about this awful funeral he went to and how he didn't know what to say to the father of his wife's cousin, who'd died in a car accident. To Greeny's surprise, they ended up discussing the Eagles and their post-season potential for a good 10 minutes. The uncle smiled and thanked Greeny for adding some normalcy to the day.
The power of sports is truly astounding.
Wow. That was touching. Truely.
I'm sorry for you loss, and fantastic little post there, miss
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