Man...I hate even thinking about that. Dad and I have gone to so many baseball games together over the years. We have created vacation itineraries around teams being "home" so that we could see new ballparks. And here I am now. On the eve of going to a Cardinals game with my Dad and I can't help but think this might be the last game we ever get to see together, live.
It chokes me up.
I was thinking back to all of the different stadiums we have visited together just yesterday. I came up with 14. That's a lot of summer vacations planned around ballgames!
My Dad is the one who gave me my love for both baseball and baseball stadiums. There was nothing I loved more than to be by his side at a ballpark as he kept score (and taught me how) watching the game slowly roll by. For years, we would take a road trip to Chicago to see a Cardinals v. Cubs series at Wrigley Field. Each trip we would stay on Diversey, a long walk to the ballpark, at a hotel that he would always refer to as "The Mighty Comfort". We were there for the "Ryne Sandberg Game" in '84 when Sandberg hit 2 home runs off Bruce Sutter. I believe that is the game I was wearing a replica Tom Herr jersey and I was ruthlessly heckled on our walk back to the hotel. We also once sat next to the great Redd Foxx and his bodyguards a few rows above the first base dugout. Those trips were magical. I still love Wrigley because of my memories with my Dad there.
Today Dad is not doing so well. He was diagnosed with Alzheimer's about seven years ago and for the most part, he was very highly functioning and had plateaued for a few years. I took advantage of this plateau a few years back and took my Dad with me to Minneapolis to attend a game at the new Target Field. Dad was still able to travel at the time and I knew that it would be our last baseball road trip together. That trip also marked my completion of seeing a game at every active major league ballpark - a journey that my Dad started for me in the early 80's, I was now completing in 2014 just as I should...with my Dad by my side.
That Twins game was bittersweet. I so loved sharing the adventure with Dad and it meant the world to me that I was able to bring it full-circle with him helping me round out my ballpark tour. But, I also knew that he would not remember the game, the feelings, the love.
That brings me back to tomorrow night. Dad has been slipping fast the last eight months. He is no longer on that plateau. He easily gets lost and crowds can be a bit over-bearing for him (and rightly so). So tomorrow night, for the Giants v. Cardinals game we will be there in left field again. A seat very similar in perspective to the ones where he and I saw Bob Forsch throw a no-hitter against the Expos some 33 years ago, in a ballpark that is now long gone. I will insist that we buy a scorecard and a pencil again, just like we did so many times before. We have the scorecard still of Terry Pendleton's first MLB game (I believe he had four or five hits that night). Dad will not be able to keep score any more, that is my job now. I'll offer it up to him several times, but the cognitive ability is just not there anymore to do something that he could do in his sleep for so long.
I hope that I am overreacting. I hope that he is fine at the game tomorrow night and that we can continue to go to games periodically for years to come, but that optimism is fading.
So as we sit there in Busch Stadium tomorrow night, I'll be enjoying every conversation we have about baseball when he was growing up. I'll be reminiscing about our trips out west in 1989 when we saw both the Giants and the A's in one trip. Another trip we took to LA when we were able to see both the Dodgers and the Angels. I'll be thinking about our trip that took us to both Tiger Stadium and to Municipal Stadium in Cleveland. I'll be thinking about our upper deck seats in old Memorial Stadium in Baltimore where the seats were as steep as any I have every climbed to. I'll be thinking about the rich green colors that I always recall when thinking about old Comiskey. I'll think back to he and I squeezed into the tiny seats in Fenway Park, days after we went to Cooperstown in '99.
I'll try to hold back my tears. They are tears of both happiness that I have seen so much with him...and tears of sorrow that those days are behind us now...and way too soon.
Whether tomorrow night is our last game together or not, I'll have a scorecard to remember it by. I'll even be sure to get a photo of the two of us with the beautiful Busch Stadium field behind us. It will be another great memory for me...and another reminder of how cruel Alzheimer's is.
Go Cards!
