Thanksgiving Without Mom

I love the fall holidays most of all but this year, my enthusiasm has been tempered by the fact that for the first time in my life, I won't celebrate them with my mom.

It's strange but I don't know how I'm supposed to feel this holiday season.  

I feel guilty if I unabashedly enjoy myself because to do so is to necessarily ignore the fact that my mom isn't here with us.  However, if I dwell on how much I miss my mom, my spirit will descend into the familiar abyss of sadness and, yes, depression, and those closest to me will suffer the ill effects of my emotional decline.  My mom wouldn't want that.  This I know.

What would she want?  

She would want me to smile and laugh.  To enjoy spending time with Jude, J.P. and Joe.  To watch football all weekend long.  To enjoy a Thanksgiving meal with Jude's extended family at Anne and David Walker's house in Franklin (something my mom did with Jude and me on more than one occasion).  

She would want me to watch football all weekend long.  To tease my boys, and tease her, about the Tennessee - Vanderbilt football game tomorrow.  To have family over tomorrow night to laugh, reminisce and spend time together.  

She would want my heart to fill with pride as I watch J.P. and Joe shoot basketball together, with me, at Christ the King or Sevier Park.  To have 4-way Connect Four tournaments with Jude, J.P. and Joe.  She would want me to lose to one of the boys, of course.  

She would want me to enjoy the beginning of the college basketball season.  To enjoy taking the boys to the Battle of the Boulevard (Belmont vs. Lipscomb) on Tuesday.  To enjoy following the Titans as they make a late season run for the playoffs.  To worry about the Predators and early season swoon.  

She would want me to enjoy the fact that I'm healthy and running like I did 25 +  years ago.  To enjoy the fact that, at age 53, I've had a bit of a running renaissance.  Not racing but effortlessly running 4, 5 or 6 miles at the same training pace I ran in my late 20's.  To enjoy running 10 miles in Shelby Bottoms last weekend.  To simply enjoy doing something I love.  Running.

I think - no, I know - she would want me to slow down just a little bit this holiday season.  To worry a little bit less about work and my immediate and extended family, and my friends.  To be still, to be quiet and to be thankful, truly and deeply thankful, for the life I have right now.  To be present in this moment and appreciate it for it's singularity, not thinking about the past or worrying about the future.

She would want all of those things for me, and many, many more.

I miss you mom.  The holidays aren't going to be easy for me, I know.  But I'm going to try to honor your memory over the holidays by living the way you would want me to live.  

I have so much.  Today, Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, I'm thankful for all of it.  My life, the sad parts, the hard parts, the happy parts.  All of it.  

  

      

   

LeBron, the Lakers and the Bucket List

I've been a Los Angeles Lakers fan for as long as I can remember.  When I was a toddler and we lived in California, my mom used to listen to Chick Hearn - the venerable one - call the Lakers' games on the radio.  For a season or two - or so I was told by my mom - my parents shared season tickets to the Lakers' games with three other couples, in the days of Elgin Baylor, Jerry West, Gail Goodrich and Wilt Chamberlain (probably 1969 or 1970 would be my guess).

This part is hazy, but I've always had a memory of attending a Lakers' game with my dad.  I remember watching Wilt Chamberlain play.  It's funny, now that I think about it, I never asked my mom if that memory was true or a dream.  I never confirmed that my dad took me to a Lakers' game.  I wish I had asked her about it but maybe I wanted to continue to believe it.

I've always been a huge Jerry West fan, probably because my mom was, as well.  

In the early 1980's, with the arrival of Earvin "Magic" Johnson, my Lakers' fandom increased tenfold.  I watched the Lakers on television whenever I could - which wasn't often during the regular season, since cable television hadn't arrived yet - and I lived and died by how they did in the playoffs.  I mean, lived and died!

Most importantly, I hated the Boston Celtics.  Really, really hated them, like all good Laker fans.

In college and in my fraternity, same way.  None of my friends, save one - Eddie Messer - were Laker fans.  Most of them pulled for the Celtics.  

In some ways, my obsession with the Lakers, and the NBA, was an oddity in the pre-internet days.  It was harder to follow the NBA because information wasn't readily available as it is now and there were so many few games on television.  Today, of course, it's totally different.  The NBA is hip and, in reality, trails only the NFL in terms of popularity in the U.S.  Worldwide, however, the NBA dwarfs the NFL in popularity.

For me, it's always been MLB, followed closely by baseball.  But, in terms of my favorite team, it may well have been the Lakers.  Probably trading places, from time to time, with the Dodgers.

The cool thing about having boys - my boys - is that, for the most part, they've adopted my sports' allegiances.  The notable exception, of course, is the the fact that they're Vanderbilt fans and I'm a Tennessee fan.  I smile as I write that, though, because it's a lasting legacy from my mom.  Her parting shot to me, if you will, and something that I believe still makes her chuckle wherever she is now.  My sons, the Vandy fans.

The boys - and I - love the Dodgers and Lakers.  

Saturday afternoon, we drove to Memphis of then Grizzlies - Lakers game Saturday night.  JP rode with my friends, Russ and Chris, and their sons (and his basketball teammates), Cooper and Wes.  Joe rode with me, as his basketball game finished later.

Because the Lakers played Friday night in Oklahoma City, I was worried LeBron James might sit in Memphis.  You know, load management.  Fortunately, that wasn't the case, as LeBron and Anthony Davis played.  

As it turned out, we stayed at the Westin - the same hotel in which the Lakers stayed.  In fact, the players were checking out when we arrived.  The boys saw Lebron, Anthony Davis, Alex Caruso and Kyle Kouzma, which thrilled them to no end.  

Before the game, we walked .3 of mile to Central BBQ for some slow cooked, Memphis style BBQ.  As advertised, the BBQ was awesome, especially the brisket.  Then, back to the hotel to change clothes, and a quick walk across the street to the game.

We had good seats in the Pinnacle Club section.  I loved watching the boys watching the Lakers, standing and cheering in the their LeBron James (No. 23) Lakers' jerseys.  Joe was so into the game that I had to ask him - several times in the first half - to calm down.  The Lakers weren't playing particularly well and the Grizzlies hit their first 8 (!) 3-pointers.  Joe was despondent.  JP and couldn't help but laugh and - I thought - like father, like son.  

The Grizzlies cooled off in the second half, predictably, and the Lakers got hot.  It was an exciting finish and the Lakers won by 1 point, much to our delight.  I bought the boys some swag in the team shop and we walked across the street, back to the hotel.  

Overall, bucket list night.  I got to watch LeBron James play, with my sons alongside, cheering the whole game.  For me, it doesn't get much better than that.

   

Fall Baseball Season Finales

Sunday marked the end of the boys fall baseball season.

It's rare that we play into November but the previous weekend's games were rained out the fields were too wet on Saturday to play.  It was a beautiful, fall Sunday afternoon, though, and I was grateful to get the play the season finale for the Junior Dodgers (Joe) and the Dodgers (J.P.).

The Junior Dodgers played first, at 1 p.m., vs. the Red Cobras (Hi, August!), a team we had split with earlier in the fall season.  The pitching machine was dialed up a bit and the boys on both teams had a difficult time hitting.  Early on, the score was tied 1-1, then the Junior Dodgers took a 2-1 lead and later, a 5-1 lead.

The play, or plays, of the day, came mid-game when I had Bennett at pitcher and Joe at first base.  Bennett made a fairly routine play on a ground ball for the first out, throwing the ball to Joe at first in time to get the runner.  A couple of Red Cobras scratched out hits, then one boy struck out for the second out.  With two runners on base, the next batter ripped a ground ball up the middle.  Bennett reacted instantly, backhanded the ball cleanly, and threw a strike to Joe at first base for the third out.

It was a bang-bang play and for a split second, everyone sat in stunned silence.  Then, our fans, coaches and players erupted in cheers as the Junior Dodgers ran off the field to bat.  I stormed out of the dugout and Bennett greeted me with a huge smile on his face as I picked him up and hugged him. It was a helluva play!

Although the Red Cobras rallied for a pair of runs in the bottom of the last inning, the Junior Dodgers held on to win 5-3.  The boys made must enough routine defensive plays and had just enough hitting to win the game.  George, one of my personal projects the past year or so, had three hits.  Andrew, filling in because we were short on players, and Trey, had triples to the outfield.  Big, big hits.  A fitting end to the fall season for the Junior Dodgers.

The Dodgers played our longtime rival, the Dirtbags, in the 3 p.m. game after the team we really wanted - Pennington's team - couldn't get enough players to play us.  We've had the Dirtbags number as of late.  The boys followed up a 13-1 win over the Dirtbags Tuesday night (in a game the I missed b/c I was stuck mediating a case) with a 12-4 win that was never in doubt.

Although I thought about pitching some boys who don't normally pitch, I decided a win would be important to the team so I started our horse, Porter.  He pitched well over three innings and gave up only a single run as we pulled away.  Timely hits, walks and a lot of stolen bases led to the Dodgers taking a big lead early and coasting home.

In the lasts inning, I brought in Ethan to pitch.  He'd been asking to pitch and he deserved a shot.  When he's on he's unhittable but when he's struggling with his control, anything can happen.  It's usually feast or famine when he's on the mound.  Still, I wanted him to get the experience of being out there because he's got real talent and just needs to learn to manage his emotions.  He's got unrivaled competitiveness but is so hard on himself when he struggles the slightest bit.  Great, great kid.

I caught J.P., which I knew would be a challenge for him because Ethan can be a bit wild when hit pitches.

After an early strikeout, Ethan's control wavered and he walked a few batters and allowed a run or two on wild pitches.  J.P. did reasonably well, but struggled a bit with balls in the dirt, allowing them to get past him and roll to the backstop.  Nothing some repetitions at catcher won't correct because he really can play back there, I think.  I've said it before but one of the things I'm proudest of when it comes to J.P. and baseball is his versatility.  He field at least 3 grounders flawlessly at shortstop early in the game and threw the batters out at first, then was competent at catcher.

The Dirtbags did what the Dirtbags do when the scored a couple of runs.  Their players started chanting, quietly at first, then louder and louder.  Although I think that stuff is bush league, I had to laugh when they started humming the Jeopardy theme song when I walked to the mound to settle Ethan down.  Settle down he did and he struck a batter out for the last out with the bases loaded.  A good moment for him.

Overall, again, the Dodgers played very solid defensively.  I've seen so much improvement there.  we had timely hitting and there's a lot of room for improvement, for sure.  But he defense has been outstanding as the fall season progressed.

A great way to end the fall season - wins against rivals of the Junior Dodgers and the Dodgers - and two teams' worth of happy boys on a beautiful fall afternoon.

Baseball is life.  All the rest is just details.

Sifting Through the Past

I went to my mom's house this afternoon to sort through some of her furniture, household furnishings, and personal items, so I could decide what, if anything, I want to keep.  I've put it off, I know, as a means of self-preservation but it's time to get things moving.

It's so strange to walk into my mom's house.  I still feel her presence there but not as strongly as before.  It's like her spirit has, for the most part, drifted away and is no longer inhabiting the house she lived in for more than 40 years.  The fact that her house hasn't been lived in for so long is part of it.  Also, Tracy and Alice have packed up a lot of stuff, so the house has the feel of someone in the process of moving out, of moving on.  I guess, in a way, that's what's happened.  My mom has moved on.

I think I've mentioned this before but it's strange to realize that so much of what one accumulates over a lifetime - furniture, photographs, art, lamps, books, televisions, every day china - all of that stuff - is so important, so necessary to one's life and, yet, after one dies most of it gets dispersed - to stranger in an estate sale (coming soon), to relatives, or to a landfill.

How can it be that all of these items - this stuff - that was so personal to my mom and made my mom who she was and her house what it was - is simply going to be given away or thrown away?  It's mind boggling and a little troubling to me.

How do I decide what to keep?  We have enough stuff at our house, as it is.  Do I keep some of her furniture - the practical stuff - just because it was hers and it will remind me of her?  Or do I keep some of her knick knacks?  In truth, those type of things remind me of her most of all.  Thing like -

• the Eddie George (former Titan running back) autographed photograph
• the Drew Bennett (former Titan wide receiver) note and photograph 
• the letter to her from C.M. Newton (former head basketball coach at Vanderbilt) 
• the framed newspaper articles from the Music City Miracle and the Titans' run to the Super Bowl

Those are some of the things my mom loved and that made up the spirit of who she was as a person.  Sports was such a big part of her life.  Days like today, when the Titans win an exciting game (vs. Tampa Bay), the pain of her loss, her death, is more acute, more immediate, and more visceral.  Damn, she loved sports.

I didn't really find much in her house I wanted, which makes me a little sad.  It's time to go through everything, though, and discard what we don't want that has no value and sell the rest of it at an estate  sale.  It's time to get her house - the house I grew up in - ready to be sold.  It's past time, really.  

At the Beach But Not On the Beach

So, here we are, back in Santa Rosa Beach, this time for Fall Break.  It's our first trip here in the fall and, unfortunately, it's rain, rain and more rain.

Jude texted me from the beach this morning on her morning walk and suggested I bring the boys down to see the waves after last night's storms.  It was cool, actually, with waves bigger than they have ever seen at the beach.  As I walked up from the beach to my truck to go to Ama Vida for coffee, I passed three surfers in wet suits.  Smiling, I told a couple of them that my boys were going to be very excited to watch them surf.

One thing about the beach, for me, is it's always relaxing yet rejuvenating to be here.  In a different life, when I used to regularly go to Litchfield Beach, SC, it was always so nice to be there.  It didn't matter if it was in summer or in December - just being near the ocean, even if I couldn't swim in it - calmed and centered me.  It's still that way.

Our trip down was the easiest so far.  We left at 6 p.m. and drove straight here.  The boys slept a good deal of the way down and the drive passed quickly.  Jude and I listed to a couple of podcasts and just talked.  Our lives are so busy, it's hard to find time to just talk.  About politics, raising children, social media, etc.  It was nice.

Thursday morning, Jude and the boys went to the beach while I nursed a head cold.  I rallied after lunch and went for a 6 mile train run on the Longleaf Pine Trail near our house in Old Florida Village.  I felt strong and had a great run.  I listened to Marc Maron on his WTF pod interviewing Woody Harrelson.

Great interview that inspired me to watch, last night, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.  Dark, comedic and powerful movie that I meant to see when it was released a couple of years ago.  Frances McDormand's performance was breathtaking and worth of the Oscar for best actress she won in 2018.  So good.

The boys and I have had fun watching the NLCS (sweep by the Nationals) and the ALCS (3-2 Astros lead over the Yankees) together.  It's great that they're at an age where we can watch, really watch, baseball together.  As such a big baseball fan, it's special to me just to sit with them and watch baseball, especially when it's not the Dodgers playing.  If you love the game of baseball, like I do and like I think they do, you watch the playoffs and the World Series.  Always, regardless of who is playing.

So, I'll finish my coffee, walk out into the October rain and drive back to our house in Old Florida Village in Santa Rosa Beach.  Cinnamon rolls to eat, board games to play, college football games to watch, trails to run (if the rain stops) and books to read.

Beached and soaking up every minute of it.

Catching Up

Last night, J.P.'s Dodgers played their longtime rival, the Dirtbags, in one of the final games as the fall baseball season winds down.  It's fun to play them because they're our friends and our rivals.  We know the coaches and the parents, not to mention most of the boys.  It's been Dodgers vs. Dirtbags for more than five years, since the boys were seven years old and playing machine pitch baseball in the Rookie League.

We had a bit of makeshift team because a couple of our stronger players were out.  One I knew about but the other's father called me roughly two hours before game time, as I was leaving the office to pick up J.P. and Joe at school.  That's another story entirely but I was frustrated, to say the least, because I work hard to communicate with our parents and make sure I have enough players to play each game.  When I get a last minute cancellation, it's difficult and it affects the entire team.  But, what am I gonna do?

I started J.P. at pitcher and he did well.  Our right fielder, Henry, missed a line drive that would have been a tough catch, and a couple of unearned runs scored in the first inning.  At first base, Wes missed a ground ball down the line in the second inning to allow a third unearned run to score.  J.P. was a little down but he pitched well against a good hitting team.  I don't think he walked anyone.

I brought in Porter to pitch next, the Dodgers' horse.  He allowed a hit but no runs in the third and we scratched out a run in the top of the fourth inning, trailing at that point 3-1.  

Here's where, for me, it got interesting.  I put J.P. in at catcher in the bottom of the fourth inning.  He's a middle infielder - shortstop mostly - who also pitches and plays well in the outfield.  Very versatile.  However, he hadn't played catcher in a game for four or five years, in the machine pitch league - and then it was only once or twice.  He had never caught live pitching.  Until last night.

I was worried.  I shouldn't have been.

I guess by now I shouldn't be surprised but he played catcher like he'd been doing it for years.  It helped, I think, that Porter was pitching.  He throws hard but his control is generally good.  Other than one low ball that got under his glove - and hit the umpire in the shin - J.P. didn't drop a ball.  Porter struck out two or three boys, swinging, and J.P. held the ball every time.  Porter pitched two perfect innings so I didn't get to see how J.P. would do holding runners on or throwing them out stealing.  Still, he was confident, poised, and in command.

I was really, really proud of J.P.  His versatility on the baseball field continues to astound me.  

The icing on the cake is that the Dodgers rallied for 4 runs in the top of the fifth inning to take a 5 - 3 lead.  In the bottom of the fifth inning, Aidan - a Dodgers' regular from years past who isn't playing baseball this fall but was filling in last night - made a great play on a ground ball down the line at third base, throwing the runner out at first by a step.  Wes got the last out of the game when he made a nifty play on a ground ball at first, then hustled back to the bag for the final out.

Final Score:  Dodgers 5, Dirtbags 3.  

       

R.I.P. Sports Illustrated

For better or worse, I am a huge sports fan.  For as long as I can remember, I have loved to play sports, watch sports live and on television and, most of all, to read about sports.

I always admired sportswriters and, for a time growing up, I wanted to be one.

I especially admired national columnists I read weekly in The Sporting News - the first magazine I subscribed to, at the age of 10 or 11 - legends like Dick Young, Art Spander and Joe Falls.  The Sporting News arrived weekly at our house addressed to me and that was big.

Sports Illustrated was different.  It also arrived weekly but it was addressed to my mom, not me.  I couldn't wait for its arrival and to see who was on the cover.  Sometimes but not often, my mom would beat me to the mailbox and read it before me.  Glossy, amazing photographs.  Letter to the Editor.  Faces in the Crowd (young athletes - high school or small college usually).  The Point After.  This Week's Sign That the Apocalypse is Upon Us.  Game stories.

If it was written about in Sports Illustrated, it obviously was a big game from the previous week.  Or, big events, like the Master's, Wimbledon, etc.  It was all there.

And long form pieces, which were my favorite part of the magazine.  Features.  I loved reading them.   In fact, in high school during study hall, I would pull bound editions of old Sports Illustrated magazines from the stacks and read long form pieces from years gone past.

Such great writers, some of whom recently died.  Dan Jenkins.  Frank Deford.  S.L. Price.  Gary Smith.  Tim Layden.  And so very many more.

Later, when I left for college, my mom gave me my own subscription to Sports Illustrated as a Christmas gift.  And she kept giving that Christmas gift to me, year after year, until she died eight months ago.

So many times over the years, we compared notes on that week's Sports Illustrated.  Did you see the article by Gary Smith on . . . ?  And on and on and on it went.

No questions, I inherited my love of sports - and Sports Illustrated - from my mom.  Now, she's gone and for all intents and purposes, after yesterday, Sports Illustrated is gone, too.  Half of the staff laid off as an internet publisher from Seattle - Maven - takes over.  Bloggers and contract writers will replace staffers.  More video, less written content.

Like everyone else in the magazine industry, Sports Illustrated has been on life support for a few years.  Writers have departed.  Bi-weekly issues, at best.  Now this.

I hate that my boys and I won't have Sport Illustrated to bond over in the years to come.  I hate that we won't share that experience the way my mom and I did.  I miss my mom terribly and I will miss Sports Illustrated, too.

My mom would have been sad about the demise of Sports Illustrated.  I know I am.