Phillies showed me — and my son — how to love baseball | Opinion - The Philadelphia Inquirer

Last fall, I allowed myself to love the Phillies again.

As a native of the Philadelphia suburbs, watching the nation fall in love with the team everyone loves to hate sparked a giddy, childlike joy in me. Like a group of rowdy wedding crashers, the 2022 Philadelphia Phillies barreled their way into the postseason, ungracefully and unapologetically, and made it to baseball’s biggest stage. Many were wary at first, maybe even a little angry at the fact that they showed up.

Then they did the same thing this year.

But once again, the excitement of the unexpected underdog story came with profound sadness and waves of emotion, catching me off guard.

Every fall, I watch as the vibrant orange, red, and mustard yellow leaves trick us into thinking death is beautiful. It’s the time of year when pumpkins and mums adorn our doorsteps, and we finally accept summer is over, with one exception — there is still baseball.

My mother died on Oct. 29, 2009, the morning after the team won Game 1 of the World Series against the New York Yankees — and a year after winning the championship against the Tampa Bay Rays. The night before she died, we watched the game together, and my mom, a United States Marine Corps first lieutenant, mustered the last bit of strength cancer had not yet stolen from her to stand and salute for the national anthem. This was one of the final lucid moments I had with my mother.

After 2009’s Game 1, my family and I couldn’t watch any more of that World Series. What was once a distraction from the inevitable had become a heart-wrenching reminder that we all lost our biggest cheerleader. The Phillies went on to lose the whole thing on the day we laid her to rest — Nov. 4 — a fitting loss as we said our final goodbyes.

I didn’t follow the Phillies after that, and neither did my family. It was too painful.

But last year, the team’s incredible, improbable run got me to jump back on the bandwagon. I allowed myself to feel sad my mom wasn’t around, but I also allowed myself to be happy for Bryce Harper and the rest of the 2022 team that reminded me so much of the 2009 crew my mom had cheered on.

My dad, brother, and I got caught up in the excitement of 2022 Red October and decided to go together to the World Series. Unbeknownst to us, my mom’s favorite players from 2008 — plus manager Charlie Manuel — were there to throw out the first pitch. It also happened to be Stand Up to Cancer night. It felt like my mom, and the universe, was telling us that it was OK to love the Phillies again.

As the anniversaries and “without-mom” milestones come and go for the 14th time, I know why my emotional investment in the Phillies is so intertwined with the ache of losing my mother. The two are inexplicably yet perfectly aligned.

But this year, I was different. I proudly wore my Phillies gear and followed the 2023 season. My dad, siblings, and I all texted each other during the games. My sister and I went to our first playoff game together, and as two working moms, had the best time of our lives dancing on our own, together. My mom would have loved seeing us.

I know I am not the only one with an emotional response to baseball.

When my husband and I adopted our son nearly five years ago, he was 8 years old. He had never played baseball and knew little about it. But he and my husband began playing catch, and it became their love language. This simple, silent activity filled the space between the two of them, sparking a shared love of the game that far outweighs a need for shared DNA.

Now, my son knows nearly every pitcher in the league and studies their movements and rituals while doing “dry drills” in front of the TV. I watch him throw balls against the side of our brick house, over and over, as if years of uncertainty and chaos from his past life are being worked out with every toss, his intensity building, releasing anger and frustration that at 13 years old he still can’t quite explain.

The sport has become an outlet to heal old wounds.

So thank you, Phillies, for unlocking tears I didn’t know I still needed to shed. And, more importantly, for building the bond between my husband and a kid who was written in the stars to be ours.

Mary Bergstrom is a lawyer based in Washington, D.C.

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2023-10-25 18:26:56Z

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