Making Memories

Well, that certainly changed fast. The past few times I’ve pitched to my four-year old grandson, his bat was allergic to contact; tennis, anyone?. Then yesterday, he put nine balls over the fence, with one nearly clearing a second fence. Joy, except for the Packers’ t-shirt he was wearing. Leo will probably grow up a Cheesehead because his mom doesn’t really care about the Bears-Packers’ rivalry. If her boy wants to make a pilgrimage to Green Bay, that’ll be fine with her, provided he knows where his baseball allegiances lay. Amen to that, my daughter and grandson. If all goes right, seventy years from now, Leo will be looking at the latest iteration of the JumboTron I was watching Wednesday, and he’ll have the same reaction. Luke Appling retired before I was born, and I only remember Nellie Fox in his last season on the South Side. But there I was, holding back tears while Appling and Fox were brought back to life on the screen. No doubt, every team has the same sort of video clip to play at the start of a game. “Innovation” and “Jerry Reinsdorf” don’t usually appear in the same sentence, unless maybe you throw in “salary cap.” Whatever, the clip works in ways the Sox marketing department couldn’t begin to imagine. If those folks did, they might worry. Because watching reminds me there’s a connection to this team that extends generations, back and forward. My father cheered Appling, and my father-in-law, too. I lived and died with each at-bat Walt Williams took. Clare did the same with the Big Hurt. For Leo, Colson Montgomery could be his Nellie Fox or Walt Williams. Whomever his hero(s) turn out to be, it’ll be four generations of Sox fans and counting. At some point, the latest generation will demand accountability, and there’ll be no satisfying them until it’s had. Just saying.