By Tom McCarter
I hate sports.
Well, maybe “hate” is too strong a word. I was never good at any sport or gym class. As a freshman in high school. I was a 4th string tackle on the football team, for instance. I went to all the practices and got to play in 13 plays for the entire season.
I got my knee mangled in spring football practice and after that, I never participated in sports again.
I enjoy watching football once in awhile, but I don’t follow any teams.
So when I was married to my first wife, and she had a son who liked baseball, I was bit of in a quandary. Baseball is my least favorite sport. I find it boring to watch or play. My dad took me to see a baseball game when I was 8 years old, and I never asked to go again. Boring. Almost nothing happens.
I wasn’t good at catch with the boy and not really interested. And he really wanted me to take him to a baseball game. We were living in Seattle at the time and the Mariners were the worst team in the league. Guaranteed boring. I resisted, but I finally gave in and told him, “OK, we will go to the next game.”
I bought tickets. It turned out that the Mariners were going to play the Detroit Tigers at that game. The Tigers had just tied the record for most games won in a row (18, as I remember). All they had to do was win one more game to hold the record, and this was going to be the deciding game. Now there was going to be an edge to the game which made it a little exciting. Not only that, the Tigers were going to play three games in a row with the Mariners, and everyone assumed that not only would they win the first one, they would probably win all three and have a record no one could top.
As it turned out, the Mariners won all three games! I have a few feathers in my cap from being a parent to that boy, and going to that game is one of them.
I may hate sports, but I love that boy.