Christmas Cardinals

My dad was a baseball fan and the St Louis Cardinals were his team.  He passed on the love of baseball to both my sister and me.  In turn, I passed it on to my son.  Via Grandpa, JT became a Cardinals fan.  Some of my fondest memories are the sound of the two of them on the phone, dissecting their team’s prospects and celebrating their triumphs.   My Dad’s passing earlier this year made the 2023 baseball season bittersweet for me.  But I’ve found comfort in memories of Dad brought on by cardinals.  This set reminds me of the joy he found in his three grandsons.  It’s made me happy all of the holiday season, a reminder that Dad is still here to celebrate his boys, cheer on his team, condemn Republican stupidity, and look after us.

The Family Pastime

My parents are in town to enjoy the Fall and watch JT in a few cross country races.  Last night, we watched baseball playoff games.  We don’t have a dog in the hunt, but baseball is baseball and so we watched.  JT and Grandpa were watching together and there was pretty constant commentary when a Cleveland player connected and in unison they called, “that’s gone.”  Gone it was and JT smiled and said to his Grandpa, “we both knew that.”  Grandpa is the source of his love of the game and watching baseball together…..well, that’s happy!

Prep B Champions!

As the baseball season playoffs begin, the team shrinks to the Varsity players.  JT is a 10th grader who is part of the core that remains.  He doesn’t get a lot of playing time but he is at practices and games, catching in the bullpen, warming up pitchers, serving as a loud-mouth in the dugout chatter, and at the ready should the opportunity arise.  It’s exhilarating to be here with the close-knit team and Thursday night brought home the thrill.

Though I am hard-pressed to explain the structure, athletics in this state feature a number of different play-offs, all with different value to the team.  There are county playoffs, featuring all the schools in the county: public, parochial, and independent.  There are state-wide league playoffs, featuring all of the schools in the conference (ours is the Skyland conference, which is state-wide).  Skyland has three divisions, structured by the size of the school; those playoff games start next week.  Finally, there is the Prep Championship, a tournament made up of all the independent prep schools in our region of the state.  That’s the tournament with the longest tradition at our school and it features schools we’ve been playing against for nearly 100 years, so there are long-standing rivalries.  Because of the history, winning this one is particularly sweet.  We entered the tournament last week ranked at the middling level.  Thursday night the boys won the Prep Championship in a 3-0 game against a team ranked number one in the tournament and in the top 20 state-wide.  The post-game team conference was euphoric.

As fans, JT and I have attended school baseball games for years.  We’ve seen sweet victories and team photos before.  But a team photo with him in it is a reminder of just how quickly time passes.  

It seems like it was just yesterday that I watched baseball with a little boy at my side.  

Baseball

I don’t watch a great deal of television but I love the sound of a baseball game.  From July to September, my evenings are often accompanied by the sound of a game on the television.  Between ESPN, the MLB channel, and the broadcast of my two local teams, I can usually listen to a game or two every day.  Sometimes I sit down to watch, but often I’m simply listening to the play as other tasks are completed.  

A June ball game is a whole different animal from a September game, when the stakes have begun to be significant.  In June, the games can feel leisurely, as teams find their pace and style of game.  There are sometimes amazing plays; just as often there is confusion in the field as the teams find their way.  Things have changed by October, when every game seems meaningful because most are important; games that will determine whether or not a team advances in the playoffs.  

Left to my own devices, I’m a fan of the St. Louis Cardinals and the San Francisco Giants.  Daughter of my father that I am, I’ve a soft spot for the Oakland As and I hate the Dodgers.  T is a Royals fan from way back, and of late they have been a fun team to watch, so I keep up with them.  My boss is a diehard Mets fan, as is JT’s baseball coach, and some of my 7th graders.  They are a local team and I can always watch or hear the broadcast, so I know that team well.  This year, Mets games have been such a treat that I’ve seen or heard nearly every game they’ve played since August.  

I’ve a Sunday night habit of turning on ESPN’s Sunday Night game.  That tradition is done for the season but for most Sundays since the regular season ended, there has been a playoff game to watch.  This past weekend, there was no baseball game to be heard on Sunday and my evening felt oddly quiet.  I realized that I’m staring down the tunnel of months without a baseball game to think about.  I’ll use football to fill the gaps, though my growing awareness of concussion injuries makes that game less fun.  Soon enough, college basketball will ramp up and I’ll have those games as the sound of my evenings.  But it’s baseball that I most enjoy.

In the meantime, there are at least a few games left in the World Series.  It’s a particular irony to me that the Series features the Royals and the Mets, two deserving teams that I like and know so well.  It’s a battle between tremendous pitching and scrappy hitting.  With two games in the books, the series is shaping up to be some very good baseball, the sort of struggle that fans can chew on for years to come:.  When it’s over, I’ll enter a long drought without baseball.  I’ll miss the sounds and feel of a baseball game in my days.  It won’t be long until I start counting the days until pitchers and catchers report.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Fan Diagram edition

The backstory:  We are baseball fans of the old-fashioned sort, with complicated loyalties that can sometimes make things tricky.  We dislike the Cubs, because they are the traditional rivals of the St. Louis Cardinals, for whom our devotion is most reserved.  We dislike the Dodgers for a host of very good reasons that boil down to the fact that I am a born and bred northern California girl.  The other night the Dodgers were playing the Cubs.  I texted JT for guidance.

Me:  Cubs v. Dodgers.  Who do I cheer for?

JT:  The umpires.

Me:  Well said, son.

I followed instructions.

A Successful Season

Baseball is JT’s first sporting love.  He’s been dreaming of being a part of our school’s baseball team since he first began playing Little League.  That’s a lot of time to dream and the arrival of the baseball season seems a bit unreal.  Unreal or not, baseball practice begins next week.  This week, in preparation for the season, gear was distributed.  Yesterday, he came home with his uniform, complete with his name and number on the back.  He took it directly upstairs and hung it is his closet.  That is the first time he’s hung an item of clothes in his closet without a specific order from me.

The baseball season is already a terrific success.

Dressed for Success

The Upper School has a dress code which requires that boys wear either a school polo or a shirt and tie with their trousers.  Having endured years of complaints about any occasion that required him to wear a tie, I went ahead and acquired several of the necessary polo shirts.

Then JT realized that he could wear a St. Louis Cardinals tie to school and not be in violation of the rules.  Said tie was duly acquired.  He wore it to class today, convinced that he got one over on the rules.

When the St. Louis front office calls, he’ll be ready for the interview.

Let the Post-Season Begin

As the end of the MLB regular season approached, the St. Louis Cardinals, JT’s team of choice, were neck-in-neck with the Pittsburgh Pirates in the race to command the National League Central.  On Saturday afternoon, a lovely cardinal bird landed in my back yard.  It seemed like a good omen to me and by the end of the next day, the Cardinals did in fact win the division.  Playoff baseball begins this week.  We’re ready.

Operation Cardinal

Between the second and third grade, JT discovered baseball.  They’ve been together ever since.  He watches and analyzes the game, reads about it, pours over apps with game stats, and thinks about the strategy of the national pastime.  In season, his first conversation with me each morning is about the night’s previous games.  In and out of season, it’s a frequent reason he needs to call his Grandpa and talk things through.  In fact, it is Grandpa who introduced him to his favorite teams.

In this regard, the boy has been a lucky baseball fan.   His favorite team, the St. Louis Cardinals, and his runner-up team, the San Francisco Giants, have had some very good years.  He’s been to see the Giants in their home stadium and he’s seen the Cardinals in both Philadelphia and Washington DC.  With Grandpa, he saw the Cardinals in a Florida Spring Training game.  But he’d never seen the Cardinals at home.

That changed this weekend, when T, JT, and I rolled into St. Louis to see his team at home.  The trip was a treat to celebrate JT’s mighty hard work in the 8th grade and an opportunity to ensure that the boy experienced the most holiest of baseball venues: Busch Stadium, home of the best fans in baseball.  We got to the stadium early so the boy could experience it all.

He soaked it in and we exchanged a few jokes about the fact that every time he sees St. Louis in person, the Cardinals lose.  This game’s pitcher was Shelby Miller, a young phenom who has been known to give us some anxious moments this season.  But on Saturday, Miller was terrific and the Cardinals delivered a win.  The boy was most happy.

Though there were some Atlanta Braves fans in attendance, most of the 40,000 plus people at the game were rooting for the hometown, in jerseys and t-shirts that showed the depth of their affection.   JT opted for his Cardinals Hall of Fame t-shirt and T and I were in appropriate shades of red.

After the game, we headed across the street to the Cardinals own Hall of Fame, a new museum with a history of the team.  JT soaked that in as well and even took the opportunity for an at-bat with Allen Craig’s bat.

He watched highlights from previous Cardinals World Series win, taking the time to watch the 2011 collection twice because, as he explained, “I still get chills when I watch highlights of the 2011 World Series.”

T and I spent the weekend exchanging high fives to celebrate the fact that we pulled this surprise trip off.  One of the best parts of being a parent is watching your child develop a passion for something.  This weekend is one I will remember forever.

Gateway to the West

Before we caught the Cardinals game (more on that later), we strolled on down to the Big Muddy and had a look at the Arch.  Some people think it's okay to fool around at national monuments.

That might explain why I love them so damned much.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Cardinals edition

The backstory:  The boy is a baseball fan and his favorite team is the St. Louis Cardinals, an enthusiasm he inherited from his grandfather.  Every morning, he gives me the baseball report from the night before.  This morning he woke to the reminder that he would be seeing the Cardinals in person at Busch Stadium on Saturday afternoon.

JT:  Tomorrow we’ll be seeing the young phenom, 3-2 pitcher Shelby Miller!

Me:  Sir, you have a future at ESPN.

Internet, T and I have planned an awesome treat for the boy. It’s gonna be a hell of a weekend.

Play Ball

Just as the major league players got started on pre-season preparation, JT’s own baseball season has arrived.  He’s working on hitting and catching and we’ve made some visits to the batting cages.  His baseball bag is filled with all his equipment and is being hauled to school every day.

Last year’s baseball season began in the cold Spring and I had hopes that our beloved Miss Amy would be well enough to attend a game or two, renewing our tradition.  As the season unfolded, it became painfully clear that Miss Amy wouldn’t see a game.  Years of game time chats and cheering on our favorite ball player came to a very sad end last April.

I think of Amy as the season unfolds.  She would have really loved watching our boy take a swing, steal a base, and guard the plate.  As each game begins, I think of her spirit and laughter.  I hear her voice in my head and I cheer a little louder in her honor.

The Little Boy Inside

When JT was a first grader he would refer to himself as a little boy.  I was always charmed by those references.  These days there is a deep-voiced, tall, and strong young man in my home and the little boy often seems long gone.

Though this transition is perfectly natural and appropriate, I still miss having a little boy who grabs my hand and seats himself on my lap.  I’ve learned that the compensation for a grown up boy comes in the form of his wicked clever sense of humor, his ability to perform assorted tasks of strength and height, and the pleasure I take in his growing intellectual maturity.

I’ve also learned to embrace the moments when the little boy still inside JT  makes an appearance.  This week, that happened when it came time to spend his birthday gift card on a new Major League Baseball t-shirt.  The fact that he now likes gift cards for presents is evidence of a grown up in the making.  But the preference for a gift card to buy a baseball t-shirt?  Well, that’s all little boy.

JT sorted out his options and settled on two favorite shirts.  His heart leaned toward a Cardinals Michael Wacha t-shirt.  His head was worried that Wacha may not work out this season.  So he did what all careful shoppers do: he consulted with Grandpa in a long-ranging conversation about batting order, Cardinals pitching prospects, and pre-season baseball.  His anxieties abated, he pressed send on the Wacha t-shirt.

I watched it all bemused at this view of the intersection of childhood and grown-up, grateful that the little boy he once was is still alive and well in 5 foot 9 inch young man who lives under my roof.

Dear Major League Baseball,

No matter who is playing, the arrival of the baseball playoff season is an event in my home.  We will watch these games and enjoy the splendor of the sport.  But when one of my son's favorite teams is playing, it's more than an event.  It's a religious experience.  My 13 year old son, JT, is a fan of the Cardinals and the Giants.  His enthusiasm is a family inheritance, a love shared with his grandfather.  The last few years have been very good to us.

There are some challenges in my household when JT's teams are playing.  Team shirts must be washed and ready for the game.  Since his entire non-school wardrobe consists of baseball t-shirts, this is pretty easy to accomplish.  Hot dogs must be served for at least one game.  Again, that's manageable.  What's killing me is the time of the games:  8 pm eastern time.  By the time these games are completed, usually just after 11 pm, I am exhausted.  I awaken the next morning at 5:30 knowing that another 11 pm bedtime is on the horizon.   And then there is the matter of my son staying up that late and then attending school the next day, each day more tired then the previous.

Sure, we could skip a game.  We could go to sleep early and miss the end of the games.  But this is the playoffs and the Cardinals are contenders.  We aren't the sorts of fans who take our duties lightly.  If our team is in the field, we will cheer them on.  My son's world is baseball and I am the sort of mama who wishes to cultivate her child's joy and excite.  So we happily watch.

The World Series starts next Wednesday.  The games are all scheduled to begin at 8 pm, EST.  We will be there in front of our television.  But I wonder how many other kids want to watch games and are saddled with mothers more sensible than I, mothers who make their children get enough rest to be functional in school?  I wonder if you couldn't think about a few games that start at 7 pm EST.  I wonder if you realize that a generation of fans misses out on the some splendid playoff baseball and may never develop a passion for the sport when you show the games after their bedtime?

Respectfully,

(Exhausted) Sassafras Mama

On Baseball and a Boy

At night before he tucks into bed, JT loads up an app on his iPad to check the sports scores for all the games being played.  Checking the scores is his very first act in the morning.  During breakfast, he watches Sportscenter.  In short, he loves all sorts of sports and stays informed about all the games.  But it is baseball that most captures his interest.  He can talk batting order and ERA about every team in the major league.  His knowledge of the last five years of baseball is encyclopedic and he is systematically learning the history of the game.  He can hold his own with any adult in a conversation about the game and spends at least an hour every week on the phone with his grandfather, hashing out details of the national pastime.

This sort of obsession love deserves to be nourished.  Last weekend, T and I delivered the boy to his personal mecca, the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York.  The boy is already a virtual baseball encyclopedia, with strongly held opinions and the facts to back them up.    In Cooperstown, he would have the chance to appreciate the national pastime accompanied by his fellow enthusiasts.

I am complicit in his interest in the game, having encouraged it.  From his grandfather, a man who texted me over the weekend to remind us to pause before the Stan Musial display for a moment of silence, JT has inherited a love of the St. Louis Cardinals.  His only wardrobe for the weekend was Cardinals t-shirts.  When we began the trip, he owned four.  Now he owns five.  

Over the course of our day in the museum, he took over 200 pictures of the things that thrilled him most.  Not surprisingly, many featured a certain favorite team.

He explored the display of baseball records, absorbing all the details for future conversations and baseball debates.

On Friday evening, when we rolled into downtown and sighted the Hall of Fame and a half dozen sports card and sports collectible stores ,JT sighed and announced, "I'm in baseball heaven."  In heaven, he learned even more about the greats in his favorite game.

And I was reminded that there is nothing as powerful as love of a subject when it comes to engaging a boy's mind and imagination.

My Glamorous Life

Baseball season is upon us and I know this because when I open the hatch of my station wagon, I see this, stowed on the side of the trunk.

We are awash in baseball equipment but I don't find the bats, gloves, or catcher's equipment lying about.  Those are kept safe in a sports bag large enough to hold a body.  What I find lying about in the oddest of places are the athletic cups that keep the family jewels safe.  Don't be jealous, Internet.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Jaded edition

The backstory: Sports are a family obsession and we talk about them a lot in our home.  But our greatest energy is reserved for the national pastime, which JT follows in great detail.  In this, he is working through a genetic inheritance from his grandfather, with whom he has frequent conversations about the travails and joys of baseball players.  One of their favorite teams, the San Francisco Giants,, is currently struggling through a painful 50 game suspension for Melky Cabrera, who got caught using banned substances. Neither JT nor his grandfather defend drug users but they have a joint soft spot for Cabrera, and they are annoyed by his drug use.

JT:  Bartolo Colon is suspended for 50 days.  

Note: Colon is a player for another of Grandpa's teams, the hard-luck Oakland A's, who are were actually having a pretty good season, in part thanks to Colon.

Mama:  Jeez, what did he do?

JT (in a tone of knowing disappointment): Drugs.  What else is there?

Hey ballplayers, kids are watching.

Real Life Conversations with JT: self-sufficient edition

The backstory: We were watching a baseball game in which our team was winning handily.  The score was 6-0 at the bottom of the 5th.  The other team was up to bat and  JT opted for a quick bathroom break. 

JT:  What did I miss? Did they get any hits? I'll answer that…..No.

Mama: Happy to help, son.

Generationally Speaking

My parents are in town for the week.  The trip has been planned for a while and as summer transitioned into fall, JT was excited at the prospect of watching playoff baseball with his grandfather.  It was unexpected that the playoff baseball would feature the St. Louis Cardinals, the team JT's grandfather taught him to love.  And love is an understatement.

As of this writing, the Cardinals lead the National League playoff series 3-2.  The last three games were in St. Louis and JT and his grandfather have watched them all.  Last night, I was too exhausted to stay up and watch the last few innings.  So I went upstairs and fell asleep to the sounds of baseball and my son and his grandfather talking about the game and the team that they love.

It doesn't get much better than that.

Real Life Conversations with JT: Baseball Allegiance edition

The backstory: We are baseball fans in the Sassafras family and, among other things, that means that JT has a genetic obligation to disdain the big-money Yankees.  Some days that easier  than other days, as it was on Friday morning, the day after the Yankees were eliminated from playoff contention by the Detroit Tigers.  JT and I were reviewing the game when the following conversation occurred.

Mama:  A-Rod didn't get a hit when the bases were loaded.  That's what 32 million a year can buy you.

JT:   Heck, Mama, I'd could have struck out for them just for 32 bucks a year.

His grandfather is so proud.