In honor of my mom's birthday, here is the post that made me create this blog.
It’s always hard to tell a non-sports fan why sports fans are the way we
are. It’s a religion, a way of life passed down from generation to
generation. For my brother and I, it was passed down by our mom.
She was a huge baseball fan and used to tell us stories about seeing the
Mets in 1969. I don’t remember exactly when we first started watching
sports but I’ll always remember June 27, 1984. We were still in New
Jersey at the time and decided to take a mini vacation to Philadelphia.
The Mets were in town and Gooden was on the mound. I was 8 and a half,
my brother was 7 and a half and we fell in love with Gooden, Strawberry,
& Hernandez in ’84, Carter in ’85, Dykstra in ’86.
Our summers consisted of the Mets and our winters were taken up by the
Giants and Devils. We loved football and hockey but we LOVED baseball.
I’ll always remember going to Shea, being taught how to keep score, and
always waiting for the Apple to show up.
When people talk about the bond of sports, that’s not a cliché. When my
mom and I weren’t really speaking to one another, we could always talk
about sports. About going to Shea, about going to the Meadowlands.
Those are the memories that never go away. Thank you for everything, Mom. I love you.