Of course I had the typical things I was lonely for... missing my family and friends.
But that wasn't what was triggering it.
There were a few things.
The strangest was seeing Boston Red Sox apparel in Target.
And it was making me sad.
But being the over analyzer that I am, I thought about why it would make me homesick.
Its not like I am a die hard fan like I once was.
As I thought about the years when I was a diehard Cleveland fan (who's greatest rival in the 90's was Boston and New York). I thought about all the hours I spent watching baseball, listening to baseball, studying baseball and what it all meant.
It meant time spent with my dad. It meant survival in a really hard time in life (high school).
He would take me to Jacob's Field (it will always be The Jake...forget this Progressive field garbage) for games. We would sit in the bleachers or nose bleeds...where the real fans sat. The ones who loved the game and loved the Indians. There was John Adams who would beat the drum, and the infamous wave.
Most nights we would watch games at his house...even the late West Coast games that started at 11 pm. I didn't care how late the started or how late they went. I was watching or listening to every game, every inning, every pitch and every at bat. When we would watch the games, we knew as most fans did, to mute the TV and turn on the radio to listen to the animated announcers, Tom Hamilton and Herb Score.
This was my life. This is what excited me. Baseball was my passion.
Dad would point out things that only he could point out, and I would groan "Dad. Just watch the game! Stop analyzing it"
I'm turning into him more everyday. I talk to my kids the same way. And they tell me the same thing.
Looking around the Targets and the Kohls and the people passing by, wearing the red and blue that was for Boston, not Cleveland, made me homesick.
Or maybe just lonely...for a time in my past where even though life seemed hard, it wasn't really all that hard.
It made me lonely for my dad...for the time spent talking about baseball history and the burying of the curse of Rocky Colivito. Of Bob Feller and Herb Score, of how we were so spoiled to have a new stadium, no more was the old rundown Municipal Stadium.
We spent time together watching the lazy games and the times screaming and cheering during the many comebacks the Indians had in the Cinderella seasons of the 90's. The tears of when they lost the World Series.
For some reason, seeing Boston shirts for sale, made me lonely for a time and a place that I can't get to. It made me sad that my kids won't get to experience those times. Not really the baseball, but the time with their Grandpa.
I've felt slightly ridiculous for these feelings and wasn't going to admit them. But anyone who knew me during the 90's knew that I was the biggest fan there was. How much of a part of my life it was and how much it has impacted me.
Then tonight, while scrolling online, I came across an ESPN classics clip from the Cleveland Indians in the 90's. It brought back so many memories and in an odd way, made me feel better.
(The worst part of that sentence is that 'classic' and 'the 90's' is in the same sentence. I officially feel old. haha)
Anyone who says baseball is boring can't say that after watching this:
(A bit long, but WORTH IT!)
(The sound of Herb Score's voice brings back a flood of memories!)
I think what I am really lamenting is that it won't be the same for my children as what it was for me. But I already knew that. I just didn't think about reminiscing about baseball.
If one of the hardest things about moving from Northern Ohio to the East Coast is baseball, which I don't even follow anymore, than I think I'm doing rather well.
Although it still gives my stomach a little twinge to see Red Sox shirts all over. I guess its the Bauman in me coming out...ingrained to always root for Cleveland.