Page 2 of The Problem with Sports
Andrea – (Three Years Later)~
There was more to life than sports.
There was art, academia, dance, Pokémon cards, all kinds of other things. But looking into the living room, Grant was sitting down, dressed from head to toe in Condors baseball garb, staring at the television. And if he wasn’t watching baseball, he was watching football. And if he wasn’t watching football, he was watching basketball. And if he wasn’t watching basketball, he was watching hockey. And if he wasn’t watching hockey…well, you get the picture.
Now, while the kid was sharp as a tack, his first love was sports. I think the only reason he excelled in school was because he wanted to be good at something, and since sports were out of the question, he tackled what he could do with all the determination of an eight-year-old boy.
And he seemed happy.
That was the most important thing about all this. Grant seemed happy, even if he couldn’t play sports. He seemed happy to be able to admire his idols through the television. Maybe it was because he didn’t know any different, so he didn’t feel cheated. But whatever it was, I was grateful he seemed happy.
But even though I believed he was happy, I still made sure I did my best not to make his chILDs the focal point of his life. It was the reason I had moved into this condo after my divorce. There was no big backyard as a temptation to want to play outside, and the city park was damn near across town, so there wasn’t that temptation either. I knew he played a bit at school, but all the teachers knew about his condition, and Grant took it seriously, even at the tender age of eight.
After Grant had been diagnosed with chILDs, things had gone downhill really quickly. While I had spent all my extra time researching chILDs and working with Dr. Sorenson on reasonable expectations for Grant, Steven had spiraled into self-depression. He had really believed that Grant had been lost to everything that made him a boy, and there’d been no talking him out of it. He couldn’t get past this imagined life where he’d never get to play ball with his son, and I just couldn’t understand how he just couldn’t be happy that Grant was alive and the odds of him living a long life were extremely favorable.
Things had really gotten ugly when I had refused to have any more children with him. It wasn’t that I had been opposed to having more kids, but I wasn’t about to have them with someone who could so easily dismiss the one we’d already had. Besides, I’d had enough on my plate at the time with learning everything I could to help Grant lead as normal a life as possible.
A year later, Steven had walked out, and a quiet divorce had quickly followed. I had been heartbroken, but heartbroken for losing the man that I had married. Not heartbroken over losing the man he had become.
And now, he picked up Grant every weekend, but that was okay with me. I preferred having Grant with me as much as possible, so I could keep an eye on him. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Steven to care for him properly, it was just that I was Grant’s mother; that’s it, that’s all.
“You know, Mom,” Grant called from the couch, “with all the trades happening, the season is in for a real shake up.”
I walked further into the living room, then sat on the armrest of the couch. “Really?” As much as I couldn’t care less about sports, it was hard not to know a thing or two with how much Grant followed them. You’d be amazed at the sports trivia I knew. “And which sport are we talking about?” He was watching baseball, but…
“Football, Mom,” he said, his tone clearly indicating that I should know this.
I nodded, though he wasn’t even looking my way. “Of course,” I agreed. It was July, and I knew football preseason was going to start in August, and so, even though he was watching baseball right now, that didn’t mean anything.
“The draft wasn’t too impressive, except for the running back from Oregon State, but I think I’m going to reserve any harsh judgements until after preseason.” My lips curled in between my teeth, and I did my best not to laugh.
My kid was one of a kind.
“And Joel Schumacher’s injury is career ending, poor guy,” he said sympathetically.
“Joel Schumacher?”
Grant looked over at me-because commercial-and said, “The forward for the Oaks, Mom.”Ah, basketball.“The poor guy isn’t even two years into his contract.”
Poor guy, indeed.
I knew I was going to lose him as soon as the commercials were over, so I said, “Hey, Grandma and Grandpa Miller sent me a text to tell you they’ll be Skype calling you later this evening.” Grant smiled his excitement, but quickly focused his attention back on the game.
My parents, Donald and Mindy Miller, were retired and living on a small ranch in Montana. My father used to own a bar, which my brother, Justin, now owns and operates, and my mother used to be a city clerk. They had fallen in love with Montana a few years ago when they’d gone on vacation there, and when they decided to retire last year, that’s where they had chosen to do it.
Justin was thirty-three, but he’s been working at the bar since way before it was legal for him to be. He had begun working there in college, and two years into the collegiate lifestyle, he’d told Mom and Dad he wanted the bar. Even though Justin was older than me by three years, they had asked me how I had felt about it, and when I had made I clear that I’d had no interest in the bar, Dad had brought him onboard, and the rest was history.
And while I had met Steven in college, and had gotten married early, Justin hadn’t gotten married until about three years ago. I was happy for my brother, but it kind of sucked that our children were going to be so gapped in age. Grant was already eight, and while Justin and Nancy were pregnant right now, our kids were going to be damn near ten years apart. Justin might be three years older than me, but I was the one who had gotten an early start with marriage and children.
I headed into the kitchen to start dinner when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and smiled at the name flashing across the screen. Of course, I answered. “Hey.”
“His name is Ted, he’s a real estate developer, he’s divorced with one daughter, and he’s got two brothers.” I closed my eyes, and almost thumped my head against the cabinet overhead.
Instead of giving myself brain damage, or a very big bruise, I let out a deep sigh. Rachel Filmore was my very best friend, and she has been for years. Unfortunately, she was very happily married and that made her think all women needed a man to be happy.
I didn’t agree or disagree.
“Rachel,” I bemoaned, “how many times do I have to tell you I’m not interested in blind dating?”
