Before my husband joined the Army he was a young man with no
direction. But he knew one thing he LOVED baseball. Baseball was his life, he
was an all American in little league, he was a switch hitter, he was a short
stop, and third baseman. He was also always first round draft pick in his
little league in Michigan, which meant the worst teams always picked him first.
For him that was unacceptable, all he knew was he was the best, and he felt he
deserved to be on the best teams. It never occurred to him that he had the
power to make whatever team he was on the best team. He always says if there was
one thing he could do over it would be baseball. But I quickly remind him that
if he were to do that, he wouldn’t have had me or our 4 boys. So things happen
the way they are supposed to happen.
We live in North Carolina, close to Burlington, and we were
given tickets to the local A league rookie ballgame. Sports is something we
have always bonded over, we collect sports memorabilia and try to go to as many
sporting events our budget allows, so we are always extremely grateful and
excited when we get free tickets. Especially hockey, or baseball. We loaded our
clan up and headed to the ball game, the boys were excited, my husband was
excited, and I was excited.
Being married to a veteran with invisible injuries like a
TBI and PTSD can be very unpredictable. I don’t know if I am interacting with
Bruce Banner or the Hulk, and if it’s the hulk, the smallest detail is enough
to make him go green. Knowing that my husband loves baseball, I was prepared to
keep the kids close to me and make sure they didn’t bother him as much as
possible so he could enjoy the game he loved so much. But to my surprise it was
me who ended up sitting in the bleachers the whole game with our baby watching
most of the game! My husband was off with the older boys, running around the
ball park! He was buying them ice cream in souvenir baseball hats, cotton
candy, and playing with them in the bouncy houses. He was taking pictures with
the mascot Bingo and standing down by the first base line trying to catch foul
balls. Every time he was close enough to hear me I would ask if he was ok, and
his response was always, “Yes! I’m having a blast!”. During the 7th
inning stretch they all came back to sing “Take Me Out to The Ball Game”, and
my husband showed the boys how to shell peanuts and throw the mess on the
ground. My heart was so happy, it was like in this evening at the ball park,
his injuries didn’t exist. He was a “normal” dad having a good time with his
sons.
After the game there were fireworks, and we received 5 free
tickets to another game, one of the players even gave our oldest a game ball.
The 15-minute ride home was quiet, all the boys fell asleep they were exhausted
from all the fun and excitement from the evening. And I was just so overjoyed
that everyone had such a fun and “normal” time.
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