Editor’s note – This article originally appeared on AstrosConnection.com.
“The one constant through all the years, Ray, has been baseball…”
So there we were, the typical American family, spending the Labor Day holiday as most families should. Relaxing. The wife was with the four-year-old, talking about tomorrow’s school day. It is an exciting time in his life as he is starting Pre-K early, and a less than epic time for this father, who fears that this is just another indication that time is passing by too quickly . “Why can’t they stay babies” I think, going back to what I was doing, playing with my five-month-old son in the living room. Unbridled laughter that comes from a baby is unexplainable, it must be experienced to be understood. Oh, and true to the American tradition, the television set is on.
But this is not a normal day. There is an air of excitement in St. Louis and all of baseball as the big man, Mark McGwire tries to tie the mythical Roger Maris’ single season homerun record on this day. How fitting that it’s against the arch rival Cubs and Sammy Sosa, a man that close behind in the race for the record. The television cameras are there, and so by proxy will I. Well, maybe it is a normal day, maybe this is what it’s all supposed to be like. As the pre-game analysis is playing in the background, I was overcome with a time of reflection. There I am, starring down at a beautiful baby boy, wide-eyed and smiling that smile that breaks a father’s heart. There is the sound of my wife and son enjoying their time together in the den. And then there is McGwire and all of baseball wrecked with emotion on this day. This should be normal, not extraordinary, right? This is how life should be, isn’t it?
“America has rolled by like an army of steamrollers. It’s been erased like a blackboard, rebuilt, and erased again. But baseball has marked the time…”
I thought about my dad at this time. I thought about how he would take me out to the dome to watch “his Astros” play the dreaded enemy. Mostly the Giants and Dodgers, he hated them with a passion. I remembered the right field pavilion and our father/son times together. I remembered the daytime television broadcast of the League Championships and eventually the World Series. I remembered Lowell Passe, Gene Elston, Curt Gowdy, and all the rest. Today had a similar feeling about it. But none of them are here with me anymore.
I miss my father the most.
Normally, I abhor those who wax philosophical about “the good old days”. The present is not worse than the past, it’s just different in my mind. But today, I feel connected to a time when all the cares of the world for me did not exist. Today was family, today was barbeque, and today was baseball. Bottom of the first is soon approaching, as Sammy Sosa, a pesky challenger to McGwire has had his turn at bat and true to script, pops out to Big Mac. My baby boy is looking at me, perplexed that the “tickle belly” raspberries have stopped as Mac digs in. Three pitches into the count…
“This field, this game, is a part of our past, Ray. It reminds us of all that once was good, and that could be again…”
“He did it! HE DID IT!!! Oh my God, HE DID IT!!!” I screamed. My four year old was the first to run into my arms to share the moment with me. I don’t think he understood his father’s excitement, he just thought it would be cool to be in my arms at that moment. Odd that as Big Mac bear hugs his son, I have my son in my arms as well. Laughter soon ensues as wrestling and tickling all around is the order of the day. Even the baby, now being held by Mom is joining in on the laughter. “My God…He did it… he did it (in a soft whisper)”.
Everything that is good about this game is encapsulated in that one swing. That one homerun. That one moment. I realize that this was the one to tie, not overtake the record. I further realize that this season is much more than McGwire’s single achievement. This season has been a season of dreams. Even teams that in other times would be done and playing a spoiler role have a chance for post season redemption.
Three National League squads had a chance to win over a hundred games in 1998. One of the two that did it was the Houston Astros, my dad’s Astros. My Astros. Many memorable times, but all of it could be wrapped into that one moment. I heard Jack McKeon, manager of the Cincinnati Reds, say that he had many a phone message that begged him to pitch to Mac when the time came for his team to face him. Trader Jack felt it was as if he was being asked to heal a wounded nation, a society that was jaded by today’s morbid and depressing headlines. No Jack, this season of excellent baseball, of heated rivalries and competition, of sportsmanship emphasized by Sosa and McGwire have help heal the wounds. McGwire just put an accent mark on it all.
One day in the future, I know I’ll be playing with my youngest son’s children. I’ll probably have one hanging off of me, while I’ll give “tickle belly” raspberries to the youngest. I know the question will come, “Grampa, what were you doing the day McGwire tied Roger Maris’s record. Daddy says it was a great day” “Oh honey, yes it was. What was I doing? Welllllll… THIS!!!! PRBBBBBTTTTT!!!”
Have I told you how much I miss my dad?
* Quotes taken from “Field of Dreams”