First, some mood music. A tribute to the baddest mother I am aware of.
This mug may not be frosty, but if you were outside watching baseball last night like I was, your toes, fingers and other extremities still might be feeling like the cold mug you just pulled out of the freezer (assuming you are reading this article at an appropriate cold-beer hour).
Last night my wife and I traveled to a very nice Chicago-area youth baseball complex to watch our son represent Wisconsin against a bunch of seedy, underhanded 11 year old Illinoisans. In the 4th inning it started to sleet and hail, and during our play stoppage, I had some time to reflect on how fortunate my son is to have a mother as good as my wife.
When I met my wife, she hated sports, and I mean hated them. For her, watching baseball was as likely as me watching a Kevin Costner movie. Football, made as much sense to her, as frying a pound of bacon and running it through the garbage disposal made to me.
Luckily we were able to find a happy medium. For example, when I would be watching the Brewers, she would impatiently ask me what quarter the game was in, and how many touchdowns the Brewers needed to get the game over with. Likewise when she was watching Wings, I would ask her if she had a debilitating stroke than prevented her from changing the channel. My wife and I are very different people, with very different interests, however, it is those differences coupled with her ample bosom that have made our marriage work for all these years.
About the time my son turned seven, he started to accelerate at sports. I never pushed my son into sports, because frankly, that would have been a lot of work and effort on my part, and I like my naps. Even though, I was the sports nut, it was my wife that told me I needed to work with my son, because she knew he was going to be very good at sports. While I saw a kid that couldn't zip up his pants, or eat pasta without wearing it, she saw a budding athlete.
In the next 4 years, she has sat through more baseball, basketball and football games than most people will sit through in their entire lives. I am very guilty of bitching and moaning more than I should, when she wants to watch a movie in our comfortable living room, yet she couldn't have been more excited to watch our son play baseball in the midst of a sleet-storm, stuck in the corner of hell that is Illinois last night. She was the first to recognize that he took an outside pitch to right-field for a double, and she also recognized his contribution to our team's pitching by calling a great game behind the plate.
Where I have failed with my son, my wife has always picked me up. I have thrown a ton of batting practice, I have taken dozens of line drives off of my shins, and 2 off of my forehead (that I recall at least), yet that pales in comparison to the love and encouragement my wife has provided for our boy in all of his endeavors.
I have always loved baseball, and I know there are a lot of baseball fans that have had some experiences I have yet to appreciate, for example, my favorite team winning the World Series (I am looking at you Melvin.). However, I would never trade the experience of watching the woman I love, learning to understand and appreciate the game of baseball by watching our son play, for a decade of World Series trophies.
On a daily basis I am reminded of how far over my head I married. A standard sitcom cliche is a dumb, bumbling fat oaf, married to a competent, hot and caring wife. I am that guy. There is no doubt in my mind that while I don't deserve to have the wife I have, my son deserves to have the mother that he does.
In about 20 minutes, I am going to reread what I just wrote, shake my head at my feeble attempt to coherently author a weekend mug, click the green publish button, and head out the door to watch baseball with my wife. I won't see the Brewers today, but, I couldn't be more excited not to.
I do have a few more moments though, and I want to extend my most sincere wishes to all the mothers of the posters on this great forum. Also, I would like to extend my warmest regards to all of the wives and future mothers in our community here. There are a lot of great and engaging people on this forum, and I am sure that there is at least a couple of great women in each of their lives. My heartfelt sympathies to those who are remembering the women they have lost in their lives. I'd encourage each of you to give a shout out to your mothers, wives and girlfriends, that tolerate you day in and day out in the comment section below...
Mrs. Gerut, your son Jody did you proud last night. Now, perhaps we can forget about Chad Moeller.
Also, more Shaft.
Happy Mother's Day Tr. -- I love you!