Take me out to the ballgame!

So far this summer, we've taken the boys to two Asheville Tourists games. To my delight and surprise, they have completely LOVED both trips - one to see the Hickory Crawdads with Jeremy's Rotary Club (July 13th) and one to see the Rome Braves in celebration of "Greenville Pop's" 66th birthday (birthday July 28th; ballgame July 29th).

They don't pay super close attention to what's happening on the field, but the fact that the Coke flows pretty freely on these occasions is all the convincing they need.

Add to that visits with Ted E. Tourist and Mr. Moon (which I view as GREAT practice for Disney World), and it's pretty much the most fun a person can have at an event where he's expected to stay in - or at least around - his seat.

Here are a few of my favorite moments from our two trips:

1) On our first visit, Jones made this crazy, crazy face. I said, "What is THAT face?" He immediately retorted, "It's my Halloween costume." Good choice, Buddy. It's TERRIFYING!

2) Freddie has become quite the excited photographer - in fact, if you look at the picture with Mr. Moon at the top of this post, you'll see him holding one of my very old point-and-shoots that I unearthed and lent to him.

Anyway, he wanted to take a picture of Jeremy and me before we went into the Braves game. I put him up on some stacked railroad ties (never too early to learn that it's ALL about the angles - especially when photographing your mama) to get his shot. Jones climbed up there beside him, and as Freddie took the picture, Jones dangled a monster truck over his head, saying, "Look at the truck! Look at the truck!"

They MAY have seen someone else use this tactic in the past.

The result was a reasonably cute picture of me and Jeremy and a mind-blowingly adorable shot of the boys trying to capture their Daddy and Mama.

Freddie also took THIS picture, which I LOVE, though
it's totally off-center, and Jeremy looks a little bit
like a hunchback (which he's not, by the way).

3) When we went with Mom and Daddy, we were all standing up for the National Anthem. Both boys had one hand over their hearts and the other was holding their ballcaps by their side. And then Freddie looked at Daddy, who had his cap over his heart. Instantly, Freddie lifted his ball cap to cover his heart just like the cap that covered Pop's heart.

Freddie is BIG into being "just like ..." Daddy, Jones, Pop, anybody bigger than him.

4) Two words: Frozen Lemonade - or, as Jones calls it, "yemonyade." I went out to take Freddie to the bathroom and came back with frozen lemonades for Daddy and Jeremy and a sundae in a plastic helmet for the boys to share. Both were WAY more into the Frozen Lemonade. Daddy split his down the middle with Jones, and Jeremy eventually just gave up and handed his entire cup over to Freddie.

I, on the other, hand, polished off the helmet sundae.

Diet starts (again) Monday, right?

I honestly don't think I'd enjoy these games NEARLY as much
if McCormick Field were a Pepsi property.

Jeremy explaining the designated hitter -
to our four year old. 

Share a Coke!

Looking at Mr. Moon; LOVE how he's
dangling that camera.

Mr. Moon saw Freddie's UK hat and
swapped it with Jones's North Carolina
hat, which the boys thought was
HILARIOUS.

In case you haven't noticed, Freddie
and Jeremy are making the
EXACT SAME FACE.

Musings on a World Series Win

I am NOT a baseball fan.

I like hearing baseball on the radio. It reminds me of long trips riding, generally to Kentucky, as a kid. I also like when my father-in-law watches the Braves when we're at the lake in the summer; with its intoxicating blend of chatty announcers, distant organs playing peppy tunes that we all, somehow, know the words to, and the intermittent cracking of wooden bats, the broadcasts sound just like summer nites at my Mayme's house. I even like going to "the ballyard," as Chris Manos used to call it when he'd introduce shows for Atlanta's Theater of the Stars.

But, the truth is, when it comes to what's happening on the field, I could.not.care.less.

Until the Cubs are playing in the World Series, that is.

_____

I didn't know my Daddaw Phil. I know about him - he looked just like Daddy; he spoiled Bubba (and Mayme and, probably, Jim Bob); as they walked around the town square, he slipped his grandchildren Lifesavers, which the youngest came to call "Chews." He also operated Leslie's Drugstore in the tiny river town that holds my heart - and most of my childhood memories.

Leslie's was a typical Rexall spread. In addition to the "drugs" part of the "drugstore," it, of course, had sundries and a soda fountain. In rural Kentucky, though, Leslie's Drugstore was special. It had all of those things - but it ALSO had the first radio in Greenup, the ONLY radio in Greenup (for a time, anyway). And on that ONLY radio in Greenup, the ONLY team whose game broadcasts came through clearly was the Chicago Cubs.

That meant that, in addition to being a top-notch pharmacist, Phil Leslie was also a raging, major Cubs fan. Greenup's finest would congregate to listen to the games - or stop by to see the scores he'd post on a chalkboard in the drugstore. He passed this fandom down to some members of the family, as surely as he passed on his generous way of spoiling the ones he loved; others picked up his love for the sport but replaced the Cubs with the closer-to-home team Cincinnati Reds.

I didn't really get either - a love for the Cubs OR for baseball. I did, however, always feel like the Cubs were a gateway to get to know the man who'd meant so much to those who mean so much to me.

In 2001, just before my sister gave birth to my second nephew, our family pilgrimaged to Wrigley. I remember seeing the ivy on the outfield wall and feeling, finally, close to him. I felt that same feeling when I gave my first son Phil's middle name, and last nite, as I watched the Cubbies win the World Series for the first time since Daddaw was eight years old, there it was again.

Heavenly visions of a man I never met seemed completely real to me. There he is in his crisply pressed trousers and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He's holding a bottle Coke and beaming like he hadn't done since the day he met his little girl. In that moment, I had to fight the impulse to call him and say, "Daddaw, they DID it!" as if he'd even know who it was on the other end of the line.

In a few years, the family will pilgrimage again to Wrigley - this time, we'll take our Freddie Bear and Phillip Jones Leslie's namesake, Robert Jones Pressley, and when we do, we'll be sure they know why - and in whose honor - we "root, root, root for the Cub-bies!"

Until then, I wanted to write this down, so my boys will always know that, sometimes, sports is about more than fans.

It's about family.
_____________

(Speaking of, my baby cousin BJ is one member of the family to whom Daddaw's Cub-love trickled down. He now lives in Chicago and was at Harry Caray's restaurant last nite to watch the game. In this INCREDIBLE tribute to Harry Caray, BJ makes three appearances. That's almost as exciting to me as last nite's win!)