Mothers do what mothers have to do
Published 2:34 am Saturday, April 12, 2008
By Staff
While driving home one day from work last week, a scene in the yard of one of the homes I passed caught my eye and in an instant, I was trasnported back more than 40 years to my own childhood home.
Somewhere along Bertrand Road last week, a little boy was out in his yard, enjoying the warmth and sunshine by throwing a baseball with his mother.
Seeing that mother playing catch with her son, complete with baseball glove on hand, made me recall the many times my own mother would go out into our front yard and play catch with my younger brother.
He was only about four at the time, but his interest in baseball was almost instinctive. Our father was a professional baseball player and one of the youngest to ever sign with the St. Louis Cardinals. Unfortunately, his career was spent in farm teams in the South, which brought him to Natchez, Miss., where he met my mother.
The older boys in the neighborhood who could have played catch with my brother were at school.
Mama's not very athletic and never has been. Tossing a ball was way out of character for her. However, her son wanted to play catch, so mama played catch.
Within a very short period of time, the balls my brother threw at her became too fast and too hard for her to catch. Within a year, he was sneaked onto a little league team before reaching regulation age. He was such a natural pitcher, people were awed at his skill level at such a young age. Remember, this was during the time before the invention of T-ball. This five-year-old boy -he wouldn't be six until that August – was routinely striking out players years older than he was.
Playing ball became my brother's life and my mother was right there in some capacity every step of the way. Driving him to daily practices. Cheering him on during games. Running the league's concession stands. Baking a cake for him and his teammates after a final practice before a big game. She was there for whatever he needed. Always.
My brother wound up being a three-sport standout in high school and one of the most highly-recruited football players in Mississippi when he graduated in 1982. He was a scholarship athlete at a Division 1-A college, where he played football, but could have easily played baseball, too.
And he got his start tossing a ball with my mother in our front yard.
Mothers do what mothers have to do.
I was again reminded of the sacrifices mothers make for their children recently when my good friend, Marcy, downloaded tickets for herself and her 13-year-old son, Jerrid, to go to South Bend Wednesday night to see presidential candidate, Sen. Barack Obama.
Jerrid loves history and increasingly is interested in politics.
Obama was scheduled to begin his speech at 10 p.m. She wanted Jerrid to get a good seat, so she left work early and she and son were standing in line outside Washington High School before 6 p.m.
They were, indeed, one of the first to enter the school's gymnasium and secured a great vantage point from which to see and hear Obama. Jerrid even got to shake his hand. However, there was no seat involved.
No seat for many, many hours.
Obama wasn't introduced until about 10:40 p.m. and it was almost midnight before the crowd thinned enough for mother and son to begin the long trek back to where they parked their car.
Throwing a baseball in the front yard. Standing in line for five hours or more for your son to see history in the making. That's a mother's love.