by: Matthew Terry
I try my best to be a good grandpa.
I live in Niagara Falls, Ontario. While my son and his wife live in Cape Breton, Nova Scotia. Obviously, my grandson lives with them, so I don't get to see and do things with him as much as I would like. I try to make every visit as special as I can. The problem is that he's six years old and all he wants to do is play, play and play some more. I'm okay if I can lay on the floor and play cars or army men or board games, but I lack the ability to run with him and play outside with him. Almost forty years sitting in the driver's seat of an eighteen wheeler will do that to your body, but I do everything I'm capable of when he asks. So, when he said he wanted to go see a Toronto Blue Jays game, we were certainly going to see a Toronto Blue Jays game.
I wanted to get as good of seats as I could for his first ever ball game. I don;t know if you're familiar with ticket prices these days, but they are not cheap. However, I found three seats in the first row of the right field bleachers. They were reasonable as far as prices go. So, my grandson, his grandma and myself went to the game. The one thing I did not count on was the stairs. Lots of stairs. At least lots of stairs for me. It took me a while to get to our seats. I know I held a few people up while I slowly climbed down, but they were polite and understanding. But, when my grandson said "You're slow Grandpa.", that stung quite a bit. Luckily, one of our seats was on the aisle so I could stretch my legs out the best I could while the game was going on.
We were playing the New York Yankees. During the game, my grandson asked questions about the Blue Jays, about the Yankees, about Rogers Stadium, about many things having to do with baseball. I am not a baseball fan, but I did the best I could.
Thank heavens for hawkers. Those men and women who carry drinks and snacks around the stadium. I dreaded having to climb back up the stairs to get any kind of food or drink should my grandson want something. Although, it did bother me when he said "Why do we have to wait? Why can't we just go get it Grandpa?" That being said, he was more than happy when the food was in his hands and he could chow down on it. Unfortunately, the tears almost welled up again when everyone in the stadium started doing the wave and couldn't stand up with everyone else. At least not in unison. My grandson noticed. He asked if I was okay and said I should stay in my seat so I don't hurt myself ... more.
I can't tell you what inning it was or even what player was at bat. I know it was a Yankee player though. He hit the ball hard and it was heading straight for us. I heard my grandson yell "Catch it, catch it!!" I missed the ball entirely. I'm pretty sure it went right through my hands. It landed in the stairway a couple steps up from out seats. I don't remember thinking it through, but I got out of my seat and actually lunged for the ball. But so did several other people. I was essentially at the bottom of the pile. There were hands reaching all over the place, trying to grab the ball. I can still hear my grandson yelling "Get the ball Grandpa!!" I watched as the ball rolled away to the right, more than out of my reach. Even if my body could muster the strength for one last stretch, I wasn't going to get it. I watched as a man in glasses grabbed the ball and tucked it into his body for safety. I was tryng to get up when someone grabbed my right hand. I thought someone was trying to stablize themselves until I felt a baseball get placed in my palm. I looked over and the man with glasses was looking me straight in the eye. He said "You got the ball Grandpa."
The pile broke up and another man helped me to my feet. I looked over and saw my grandson staring at me. I showed him the baseball and he cheered harder than he had at any point during the game. I got a nice round of applause as I handed my grandson the ball. I briefly looked over my shoulder and saw the man with glasses returning to his seat. I sat down and my grandson jumped in my lap. He gave me a real snug squeeze around the neck and said "Thank you Grandpa!" He stayed in my lap and was simply mesmorized by the souvenir. After a few minutes he asked if I wanted him to get off his lap. My legs were pretty stable and I was enjoying the affection so much that I told him he didn't have to. He went back to staring at the ball. I wasn't even watching the game anymore. I was enjoying that moment with my grandson so much. Eventually, I just could not stop it. Tears began building in my eyes. My lip began to shake trying to limit the outward show of emotion. My wife noticed and asked if I was hurt. I told he that I was fine. She asked if I was sure. I squeezed my grandson and said I was positive.
When the ninth inning came, the man with glasses came to mind. I needed to thank him. I casually looked over my shoulder and realized that his seat was empty. The people he seemed to be sitting with were gone too. A quick look at the score showed us leading 13-1. I thought th eman must have decided to beat the crowd out of the stadium. When the game did end, I slowly walked up the stairs and into the concourse. I kept a lookout for the man with glasses, but never did see him. For that I feel awful. He probably figured he was giving my grandson the ball, but was using me as a middle man of sorts. He undoubtably heard him yell "Get the ball Grandpa." and quickly devised a plan. I don;t think he realizes just how big of a moment he created.
About a year later I was in Cape Breton visiting my son, his wife, my grandson and their newest addition, my grandaughter. When I got out of the car, my grandson was playing catch with his little friend on the front lawn. He ran up and gave me a hug. I looked at him and said "I hope that's not the ball from the Blue Jays game." He hung his head and said that he had lost that ball and that he was sorry. I'll admit, it hurt a little bit. Then his little friend asked "What ball from the Blue Jays game?" My grandson then started telling the story with so much enthusiasm that you would have thought I hit the home run rather than caught it. That cancelled out any pain I could possibly feel.
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