Dad was a huge baseball fan. He loved the sport and knew the intricacies of it inside and out. It probably came from growing up in a tiny southwestern Oklahoma town where he attended a school so small they only had baseball and basketball for sports. He, along with his siblings and cousins, all played and made up the majority of the team.
At some point in his life Dad came to love the Boston Red Socks. They were his team even though one of his brothers pitched for a farm club of the St. Louis Cardinals. I never knew why he was such a Red Sox fan unless it was because of some of their players who were among his favorites. The Red Sox boasted of Babe Ruth, Cy Young and Bobby Doerr. Later there was Carlton Fisk, Roger Clemens and Carl Yastrzemski. But, Dad's all-time favorite was Ted Williams.
Dad tried to pass on his love of baseball to his sons. We spent many hours playing catch in the back yard and then as we grew older, participating in Pee Wee, Little League and Babe Ruth baseball programs. Dad always coached and his teams frequently won their league. Not long before he died he was honored by induction into the local baseball hall of fame for his years of devoted service to keeping baseball alive in our small town.
My brother was a good baseball player. I was not. I never developed a love for the game, but I continued to play off and on through the years. I also kept score for the teams Dad coached, or later when in High School, I kept the official score book or, announced the games from the press box behind home plate. I was much better at those tasks than at standing out in right field trying to pay attention.
Dad would have been pleased that his Red Sox won the World Series last night. I suspect he was watching from on high and cheering them on.
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