Phil Stacey
This is a Mother's Day story about two women.
One has been a mother for almost 40 years, having raised three sons. She now has four (and counting) grandchildren, whom she dotes on at every opportunity.
The other, thirty-four years her junior, is a mother-to-be; she is due to give birth to a baby boy exactly three months from today. She, too, can't wait to dote on him at every opportunity.
They share much in common, these two women. They are both kind and caring; loyal and loving; noble and nurturing.
Sports is also a part of their lives — not necessarily by choice, but a part of it just the same.
For both women, athletic competition does not exactly register high on their personal radar. They'd both prefer being pampered and prodded over than watch a power play, or would enjoy strolling through a bucolic oceanside town as opposed to wondering if the Patriots can make that critical fourth quarter first down.
The absolute glory days of Boston professional sports that we're currently living through don't mean much to either of them. Not when there's a new recipe to be downloaded and tried out, or some juicy celebrity gossip to digest.
But both of these strong women are well aware of sports and the place it holds in the landscape of their lives.
The first woman got a healthy dose of what her life would soon be like when she began dating her future husband in the mid-1960s. Because a friend of his that worked at the old Boston Garden could often get them tickets (and sometimes left a side door open in case there were no tickets to be had), the two of them went to many Bruins and Celtics games. She may not have been a sports fanatic, but she could appreciate the brilliance that was Bill Russell, the sheer magnificence that was Bobby Orr.
When they started a family a few years later, she got used to buying any and every type of sports equipment available. You name it, and her children had it — and it was usually strewn across their expansive yard.
Each of her boys had their favorite sport. The oldest loved baseball; the middle son made football his niche; the youngest became a basketball nut. She went to as many of their games as she possibly could and was always positive — to the point of sometimes cheering for the other team when an opposing player did something she deemed "a good play."
Two years ago this month, during the floods that washed through the North Shore, her basement filled with rainwater. She and her husband were forced to have an impromptu clean-up session, tossing away many of the items that had been damaged. Picking through the carnage, you could find a treasure trove of sporting equipment that had been used decades ago; an old, rusted-out pair of Bobby Orr brand hockey skates; a left-handed catcher's mitt; some stray, long forgotten golf clubs; assorted ski poles, tennis rackets and basketballs that had long since deflated.
Her children are all married now, but her two oldest grandchildren have carried on the sporting tradition, meaning she's going to soccer and Little League games in the nice weather and floor hockey and basketball games during the winter months. She still doesn't care much about what happens in pro sports, but never passes up the opportunity to watch "the little ones" have the time of their lives.
The younger of the two women will know that feeling soon. She'll be giving the first woman her fifth grandchild, and the first for her own mother.
Growing up she was not devoid of athletics; she rode horses, played tennis and loved to ice skate on the pond behind her childhood home. Team sports, however, never really interested her. Even attending basketball and football games at UMass Amherst was strictly a social thing; the final score didn't matter to her at all.
Then she met her future husband, whose life revolved around sports.
Soon, she realized what she had gotten herself into.
Her husband goes out to football games in the fall, spends a majority of the winter months traveling to various ice rinks, and loves getting outside during the warm weather to catch a good baseball, softball or lacrosse game. None of it particularly interests her, but her support of him and his passion never wavers.
Many times, she has agreed to watch a Red Sox or a Bruins game on a Saturday night, giving up what would most certainly be better options to her. Her husband, ever grateful, has never forgotten this.
She even gave him one of the greatest birthday gifts ever a few years back: tickets to see the Red Sox play in Seattle. While she enjoyed the spaciousness and cleanliness of Safeco Field and loved all of the food choices available (chocolate-coated strawberries on kabob sticks, anyone?), she also realized that being close to the action at the ballpark is pretty special, too.
She also loved the buzz of the crowd and the pulsating action as cyclists whizzed past during the first stage of the Tour de France last year, when it began in London.
But she really found herself caught up in the Red Sox' run to the World Series title last fall. Wearing a Big Papi T-shirt, she found herself intently watching all of the playoff games and cheering them on as if she'd been a lifelong Sox fan.
When she and her husband had the chance to go to Game 2 of the World Series against Colorado, she was elated — even if Fenway Park didn't have the same seating space or food options as Safeco.
They are, to me, a mother and a wife, the two most important women in my life.
And they both play a big role in my love of sports — whether they know it or not.
Happy Mother's Day to you both.
Phil Stacey is the sports editor of The Salem News. E-mail him at pstacey@salemnews.com.
