Last night, as I sat in front of my giant TV screen to watch the Dodgers play the Astros in Game 2 of the World Series, I was extremely surprised at what happened (to me). Even if you don’t like baseball, but especially if you do, this is a must-watch four minutes.
My eldest brother Mike, was a HUGE Dodgers fan. Sadly, he passed away in June of this year, at a very young 61 years of age. We weren’t particularly close growing up, probably because he was almost 13 years older than I am. As a kid, though, I was the only girl on a boy’s little league team called the Red Sox. My brother, Mike, was the coach. Much to his dismay, he couldn’t teach me baseball. My batting average was ZERO. I played left field because the only thing I was decent at was throwing the ball. I’m probably even over stating my ability at that! LOL
Baseball was Mike’s passion. He was writing a book about a baseball player, although he’d probably been writing it for a decade. He went to LOTS and LOTS of Dodger games and every time I see the Dodgers, hear about the Dodgers, or watch baseball, I think about my brother Mike. He was extremely smart, fun to talk to (most of the time), and had a wicked sense of humor. After my mom passed away five years ago, Mike and I had some serious issues. I didn’t like some things he said to me about my relationship with my mother, and we had a couple of screaming, crying fights. (Just to be clear, I was the one screaming and crying). Most of you who know me know that I am not a screaming and crying type of girl. Suffice it to say, it wasn’t pretty.
This is difficult to write about, because even now, I am feeling emotions that I want to push away. Which is what happened last night at the opening of the baseball game. Being a kid in a household full of boys and men who liked sports made baseball and football part of my experience, and I am still drawn to both as an adult. As soon as I saw Vin Scully on the screen I immediately went to that place. Hearing Vin’s voice, his sense of humor, watching his smile, his shaky hands, reminded me of a time that is long gone and I actually felt tears forming in my eyes. Then he brought out some of the team from 1981 (I was 12) and in that moment, I really wished I could share it with Mike.
Luckily for me, I had the opportunity to talk with Mike before he passed away, and I was able to help him (in a very small way) when he asked for help , and I told him that I loved him. The fact that I have that is nothing short of a miracle.
So, I guess the moral of the story is, we might not see eye to eye with our family members, but they are still part of who we become. Try not to hold on to resentment. In the end, it just makes you cry.