Everyone else is writing about Mothers’ Day. I guess I will too, even though my mom is no longer physically here.
One of my last memories of my mom was the baseball World Series.
My mom was a lifelong Cleveland Indians baseball fan. She went to her first game, in 1924, when she was 6 years old.
A couple of years ago, when we were in Phoenix, I took her to a Cleveland spring training game and toward the end of the game, I went down by the dugout and got the attention of one of the players. “If I can get my mom down here, could I get a picture of her with one of you? She’s been following you guys for over 90 years.”
“90 years” caused a bunch of players’ heads to turn and Sandy Alomar walked over to ask where we were sitting. I pointed our seats out and he said it would likely be easier for him to come up into the stands, but it would need to wait until the game was over.
Sure enough, as soon as the game was over, he hopped the fence and came up to my mom. He talked with her a few minutes while I took some pictures and then asked if she had seen Bob Feller play. “His first game was out of town, so I didn’t get to see him until his second game.” Mr. Alomar looked kind of surprised at the answer.
The other amazing thing were the fans. As soon as he hopped the fence, the fans started to move toward him, but they all stopped as soon as they noticed he was making a beeline for the very elderly lady in a wheelchair and wearing a Cleveland Indians baseball cap.
Fast forward to the game 7 of the most recent World Series. Mom and I are watching the game on TV. She is sitting in her chair and wearing her Cleveland hat. At the last out, mom said, “Shit!”.
That pretty much summed it up.
She died a week later.