Late To The Game

If it’s true that we become more like our parents as we age, then I’ve grown to share my father’s love of baseball, particularly the Chicago Cubs. The only team he preferred over them was the Philly’s, as he and my mother were originally from Philadelphia.

He listened to games on the radio and loved the broadcasters as much as the team, especially Ron Santo. In fact, for his 90^th birthday, one of his grandchildren arranged for Santo to call my father and wish him happy birthday. At first, Dad thought it was a great prank, but, no, it really was Ron Santo. That was probably one of the best gifts he ever received.

Not long after, and following another of his falls, my father ended up in the nursing home next to the retirement community where he and my stepmother lived. When I first visited him there, I saw that he didn’t have a radio on the table next to his bed. And it was baseball season. I immediately got up, went to their apartment in the next building, and got it for him.

Though not exactly in the “best gift” category, that radio likely soothed the old man, reminding him who he was in that bleak place of uniformity, bad food, and bad smells.

Though a life-long basketball fan, I wasn’t especially drawn to baseball, but that changed with the Cubs’ World Series win in 2016. And so starting last spring, I began more actively following the team, watching the games on the giant TVs at my local bar. That’s when I learned more about the players—including two of my faves, Rizzo and Bryant—and manager Joe Maddon.

I’ve come to be an avid Cubs fan just in the nick of time: after the Loyola Ramblers win the NCAA tournament on Monday night, I’ll be in need of another team to regularly cheer. And to read about every morning in the Chicago Sun-Times whilst enjoying my grande half-caf at Starbucks.

In fact it was there on Monday that I read an article about Maddon, and whether he’d be signing a new contract after his current one expires. That didn’t interest me half as much as his comments about being an old guy:

It might be hard to believe, but the manager known for onesies, zoo animals and an ability to draw high performance from young players became the oldest manager in baseball when the Nationals fired 68-year-old Dusty Baker last fall.

‘‘It’s about remaining contemporary,’’ said Maddon, 64, who averages about 10 miles a day on his bike. ‘‘You could be 45 and be like the oldest dude on the block.’’

So how lucky am I? Turns out, I’ll be rooting for the team where the manager is a Boomer, a fellow cyclist, and uses the word “dude.”

What else can I say? May Joe and the Cubs abide.

https://chicago.suntimes.com/sports/will-joe-maddons-legacy-include-a-second-term-as-cubs-manager/