Tsk - tsk. A week has gone by and no World Series Part 2 post until now. I have been busy with a most awesome excuse, however. Our friend, Izella, had her baby this week! Izella found herself on our doorstep about nine years ago, new to America from Mexico, and moved into our hearts and our home. She moved out after seven years, married two years ago, and had baby Juliana Sophia this week! I have been busy being her stand-in Mom, and preparing my house for her sister and niece and nephew to come visit for two months! They will stay with Izella and Dominic part of that time, but we are happy, happy to have them here again! So that's my excuse, perhaps I will share more about them and the new baby later, but now on to the "Rest of the Story".
I began my last post by imagining being a 10 year-old boy in a World Series-winning city. I could not have been more excited for the Cardinals to be in the World Series, so I couldn't guess who might be more excited than me... Grayson or his Papaw. I told you about Doug's obsession with baseball, and he is obviously thrilled to have a grandson to pass his obsession on to, but mostly to share it with. (He also has Xavier coming up through the ranks, but Xave's dad is also a baseball fan... the CUBS, of all things, so you can imagine the rivalry. Poor Xavier will be caught in the middle his whole life! ha)
I will shrink the World Series down to the final game (even though Game six was the one to remember!), and tell you that I was happy to go with Doug to the first game. After that, I was hoping and praying that the series went to seven games, because I knew the plan was for Doug to take Gray to the final game if they made it that far. Win or lose, Papaw and his little buddy would be there to witness baseball history.
I pictured Gray in his 10 year-old mind seeing all things World Series bigger than they actually are, if that's possible. Or maybe that's the awesome part... it would actually BE every bit as big as a 10 year-old could create it to be. The players, the legends, the grass on the freshly-cut field, the crowds, the lights, the autumn night air, and of course, the hot dogs and pop, all boyhood wonder to be called forth night after night in his memory until Gray is an old man, and his Papaw a dear, faint memory.
If you knew the relationship between Doug and Grayson you would get all of this. This is more than just any 10 year-old boy's experience of the Cards going to the World Series. And maybe even more than any 10 year-old boy's experience of getting to GO to the World Series. And quite possibly even more than any 10 year-old boy's experience of getting to go to the World Series with his Grandpa (although that's special, I don't care who you are). This relationship is tight. Doug and Gray revere each other. Theirs is a bond so inseparable, so sweet. When you know about this relationship, you know it was divine in the making; providential, and truly a gift from God.
Any little guy who finds himself without a father at the critical age of five is a lost little guy. That's typically about the time boys really begin identifying with a male figure. And Gray was the perfect little boy for a Daddy. (see May 2009 post.) He was inquisitive, loyal and tender-hearted. And Doug, who had no sons, was beyond blessed to have his first granchild be a boy, Grayson Douglas. Moreover, he got to live within five minutes of his little namesake who was now fatherless. And so began this hand-in-glove thing between them that no one could come between. More than once Doug held him when he melted down, as his ill-equipped, juvenile behavior tried to make sense of his loss. He reinforced his mother's ettiquette lessons, and rough-housed with him on the living room floor. He spent hours in our basement letting Gray ride his Harley Big Wheel tricycle around and around, and lovingly pretended the 100th round of "Speed the Road" was just as exciting as the very first time Gray created the game. He celebrated with him the first ball he caught, and was there when he took off on his first real bike. I have seen Doug weep over Gray, pray over him, discipline him, play with him, encourage him, wrestle with him, praise him, teach him, coach him, and laugh hysterically with him. And now I was blessed to watch them share everything the game of Baseball represents to fathers and sons and grandfathers and grandsons all over this country. I don't know who God's favorite team is (gasp!), but I do know that as He is the giver of all good things, He surely loves baseball, and at the very least, stood up with tears in his eyes, and cheered at the final game of this World Series 2011. Not because of which team won, but because He is a God who lavishes on us blessings upon blessings (John 1:16), and He thought about and planned for this special relationship long before Gray needed a trustworthy man in his life and before Doug would try his hand at influencing a boy who would one day be a man.
Of course Doug was also taking in how special it was for him to share that night with his best buddy. He was taking in the moment when the last out was made, and the crowd went wild, and the fireworks were booming overhead, and the confetti was raining down all around them, and the players were in hopping heaps on the field, and no one was leaving the stadium. Knowing how he would have felt as a boy, it was surely a time Doug could fully appreciate and ponder in his heart. But evidently Gray was also fully appreciating and doing some pondering of his own. As they were walking away from the stadium Gray looked up at Doug and said, "Hey Papaw, just think... you and me were here together for the first pitch Opening Day, and we were here tonight for the last pitch of the last game of the World Series."
Baseball Buds forever. Man, I love those guys.
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