3/23/2010, The Elementary & Middle School Years, Lessons from My Grandfather
Ernest and I organized all our little league baseball and basketball games in the community. Ernest arranged for us to play teams from other communities and I would help recruit some of the local players. In our neighborhood, baseball was “King” so we always had a surplus of guys waiting to play. Most of the games were on Saturday afternoons and most of the community and family members could come watch us play. No coaches; Ernest was the captain and he set the lineup and batting order. AAU didn’t exist. No overbearing parents screaming at the umpires or the players. We just enjoyed the game because we loved it. I played shortstop, left field and pitched.
After our games daddy would teach me life lessons through sports. One weekend I hit a grand slam home run with the bases loaded. I remember the look on his face.
“Son, you guys played well today”.
He knew baseball was a team sport. He never wanted me to focus too much on myself. I know he was very proud of all of us but the real lessons came the following weekend when he took me see the Chicago White Sox play at Comiskey Park. He drove down State Street or the Dan Ryan Express Way exiting off of 35th Street to the park.
We passed The Robert Taylor Homes, a public hosing project on the South Side.
“Son, you see all of those buildings over there”?
“Yeah.”
“Son, that is no way for people to live”. If I have to get 4 jobs to support the family then that’s what I’ll do. “We never want the government or anybody else taking care of us. You all are my responsibility and I will take care of you.
I had no idea what “self reliant” meant. Daddy was a proud man who valued taking care of his family. That was the definition of manhood to his generation. As his only son I know now this was one of his many ways of teaching me to be responsible and independent. I never heard him judge those living in the public housing. But he felt that the environment was too destructive. He wanted more out of life for me. It was common to hear in the news about the murders, violence and gang drug wars in the some of the public housing projects.
Popcorn, hotdogs, peanuts and being with daddy at the baseball park. Every young boy’s dream! The sun rose and set on him and our time at Comiskey Park. This is where I truly bonded with him on many levels. I wish I could have taped our conversations.
Daddy intensely watched the game. He knew baseball! He could pick out the faults in a pitcher’s delivery. He knew all the White Sox players batting idiosyncrasies. He knew when a pitcher was getting tired or “losing his stuff.” Suddenly he’d switch concentration.
“How is your school work coming”?
“It’s ok, I have done all my homework for the week.”
Truthfully? What I really thought was, “How about another hotdog and box of peanuts!”
“Son, so and so can’t hit a fastball if you threw it to him underhanded. Why in the world is he in the cleanup position in the batting order?”
I couldn’t care less who struck out or who even won the game.
I was with “daddy” eating hotdogs and peanuts on a beautiful summer day.