Long Distance

Six months ago, Clare thought she would be spending the summer as a day-camp coordinator, with her boyfriend a couple of suburbs away.  Then opportunity knocked.

Clare is now part of a Division I softball program at Valparaiso; that looks very good on a resume even if it means going in tomorrow to check out a new lawnmower for the softball and baseball programs.  Meanwhile, Chris, the boyfriend in question, got a call from his old Elmhurst coach, who moved on to become the offensive coordinator at Syracuse.  Chris is now a graduate assistant for offense, where he can teach the tricks of the lineman’s trade.  How many of us can say we walk the sidelines at the Carrier Dome?

One little problem, though—one half of the young power couple is in upstate New York, the other half in northwest Indiana (when she’s not in beautiful Berwyn).  How do you make that relationship work?  All I know is they’re trying, with Chris coming in by Amtrak (what’s 12 hours out of your life?) this week, so they can see each other for the first time in nearly two months; with football starting soon, Clare will be going to Syracuse in mid-July, and after that, it’ll basically be texts and video-chatting.

This is the part of sports fans don’t see.  They turn on the TV or go to the game to watch players perform and coaches not screw up; their sense of these people as human beings is sketchy at best.  You have to be the parent of an athlete with coaching aspirations to get it.  I do, and all I can say by way of advice is—it could be worse.  Clare’s grandparents were separated for close to two years, as the Chinese and North Koreans took turns shooting at a then 20-year old Gramps.  So far, college softball and football fans don’t do that at games.