We went up to my hometown this past weekend to see my Dad and brother – and we spent the evening walking around the lake shore watching the sunset.
I took a couple snapshots of the sunset and being my first time trying to capture it on “film”, several didn’t come out the way I had hoped. Plus, it wasn’t one of Erie’s best efforts… note the cloud cover on the horizon in the picture above.
When we got home, I googled what I had always believed: that Erie’s sunsets are ranked as one of the most beautiful in the world by National Geographic. Turns out it’s a bit of an urban legend.
Doesn’t matter – my birthplace still has the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen. Even if I didn’t get to capture it this time around.
Inspirational things can happen in malls.
My daughter was playing in the play area of Ross Park Mall – running, sliding down the slides, and returning time and again to the hand sanitizing machine to “wash you hand”. On the other side of the play area was a little girl perhaps five or six years old, as well as her younger brother. Their young father was teaching his daughter some of the basics of gymnastics… cartwheels and such. WoyGirl, on several occasions, tried to mimic his instruction by putting her head down in a vain effort to stand on her head. Needless to say, she’s not hitting the pommel horse anytime soon.
After she had been playing for about ten minutes, she ran back to my wife giggling and laughing. The young father walked up to my wife and daughter with his own little girl as she clutched a stuffed animal. The animal, with big eyes, was a hybrid between a monkey and a dog. Odd, but cute.
The young father said, “My daughter received two of these stuffed animals. We talked and she said she wanted to give it to another child. She would like to give your daughter this one.” She then held the animal out for WoyGirl to take. My daughter’s small hand reached out and touched it but, being shy, she backed away with a bashful smirk. His daughter, crying, shrunk back toward him. He encouraged her forward to give the animal to my wife. Mrs. Woy said, “That’s so sweet. What’s your name?” The girl, through her tears, replied, “Aubrey.” My wife thanked her for the gift and the two walked away. Standing several feet away and watching this transpire, I came over and asked what it was all about. Mrs. Woy related to the events to me.
After sitting for a few moments and talking it over with her, I left my wife and walked over to the other side of the play area where the father was cradling his daughter with his son nearby. Aubrey was visibly upset, probably torn about her decision to give something up that she wanted – even if it was one of the same thing that she already had. I said that I wanted to thank both of them for the gift and asked if he was sure that Aubrey was OK with WoyGirl having her animal. He smiled and said, “Absolutely. I’m teaching her to be selfless.” I thanked her and through her tears she said, “You’re welcome.” I extended my hand and thanked him again, saying how wonderful I thought it all was. He said, “God bless you and your family” and I wished him the same.
It’s so amazing that you will find moments of true humanity in the most unlikely of places.
The source of my single greatest outburst of sports frustration in my life was not Super Bowl XXX when Neil O’Donnell’s tracking system shit the bed and he locked onto one Larry Brown. Nor was it the 2001 AFC Championship when the Steelers were considered a lock to advance to the Super Bowl but Tom Brady and company saw fit to derail that train.
No – it was the 1992 National League Championship Series when a relatively unknown pinch hitter named Francisco Cabrera brought in Sid Bream and started 17 years of misery. I broke a remote control that night and was melancholy for a good two weeks.
Over the years, my support for the team had waned with each successive season of ineptitude – and finally devolved into a backhanded support rife with sarcasm and jokes about their marketing campaign. BUT, I still rooted for them to win and paid to go to their games. Until this:
“2010 is the beginning of the next dynasty of the Pirates for me.” – Frank Coonelly
There was an additional quote that I think was attributed to Bob Nutting that was just as bad, but this one struck a nerve with me. This was somewhere between just complete fantasyland and a middle finger to all Pirate fans. This is coming from the same guy who said in 2008 we are going to “win now.”
So I swore that day that as long as Nutting and the current regime own the Pirates I would not pay for a ticket. There would be only two exceptions: A) I have to go for work-related reasons (which I probably wouldn’t pay for anyway) or B) my brothers would like to go when they come to visit.
A couple days ago I was offered a free ticket and initally refused, still incensed with how I felt about the organization. After giving it some thought, I felt I was overreacting and dediced to go. I had a solid time with some great people (despite swamp-ass conditions) and it was actually a competitive game. Pirates ended up winning 2-1 against the Chicago Cubs.
Does this mean I’m back on the bandwagon team and rooting for the franchise actively? No. I still can’t support an organization that repeatedly gives their fans empty promises and only delivers mismanagement. Fans bear some responsibility and have the ability to vote with their wallet and I hope they do. That’s what I’m doing.
It might be a bit hypocritical to take a free ticket, but I’ll still take it.
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