The last time I cared so much about a Game Seven of the World Series was 40 years ago. This is basically what we looked like in those days (from a picture of us at a game at Pittsburgh's Three Rivers Stadium around that time period). Back in 1979, the Pittsburgh Pirates were down three games to one, and they came back to win it all (including the last two games on the road).
We went to Game Four in 1979, and even though we were in the outfield seats, and even though the Pirates got crushed that night, it's a memory I cherish. Tonight, that memory and so many other sports memories seem very "close to me."
It's funny, this past March - during your final illness - your grandson and I were telling you about the Nats' prospects for the coming season. We didn't think they had a very good team.
No matter what happens tonight, one thing is clear: We were WRONG about the Nats.
Dad, I miss you, and that you're not here in bodily life to share this with us. I know, of course, that the bond continues to grow in other, mysterious ways. Still, I'm thinking of you, and praying that the Lord will embrace you forever, and that in the end we will all "finish the race" and "keep the faith," that we will all be "winners" together.
Rest in Peace, Dad.❤➕
