My First Home Run

When I was about 9 or 10 years old I played for a traveling baseball team. One Friday evening we were scheduled to play a night game on a night that my father was supposed to take me. You see, my parents were divorced and I was supposed to spend every other weekend with my dad. However, it was more like 2-3 times a year that I would see me father.

This was to be a very special evening. Never played baseball at night and my father had never seen me play baseball. I remember the truck ride to the field and him telling me that he would be watching from the truck. Didn’t care where he saw the game as long as he was there. When we arrived I grabbed my things and began walking to the ball field.

While I warmed up I remember looking over my shoulder to make sure he was still there and I wasn’t dreaming. The lights were on and I was playing baseball. My thought was this must be what heaven is.

Once the game began, I forgot about my father being there and focused on playing. We were playing well and even winning the game. My turn came to bat and I was excited. I can remember hitting the ball hard and watching it travel over the fence for my first ever homer. As I rounded the bases I looked up to see if my dad was jumping up and down and cheering….but found that he left. No truck, no father.

As my team patted me on the back I kept searching for my father but he was gone. I figured he had to get something to drink or eat due to the length of the game. My coach took me out after that and I sat on the bench. Spent the rest of the game searching for my dad but only ended up being disappointed.

When the game was over I waited for him to pick me up. About 30 minutes after the game was done they were turning off the light to the ballpark. Still no dad. Something really must have been wrong. “He couldn’t have forgotten his son at the ballpark” I thought. That’s when a nice man came up and asked if I had a ride. Told him I was waiting for my dad and he said he would wait for a few with me.

After about 20 more minutes, the gentleman asked if there was someone else that could come get me. My mother was about two miles away and he ended up taking me there. When my mother saw me she knew exactly what happened. She held me in her arms while I let out a good cry.

Alcoholism impacts many people, not just the alcoholic. It took me many years to forgive what he had done but nevertheless forgiveness came. Our relationship later in his years got better, however, not quite the way a father and son relationship should be.

Today, I spend as much time as with my children. There are times when I think about that moment and see how it has impacted me throughout my life. I just decided early on into parenthood that I would never allow my children to feel what I felt.