Matters of the Heart

Well I’ve returned to the land of the living, apparently. I thought Groundhog Day would be a particularly appropriate day to resurface, but I missed my shadow so I had to wait until pitchers and catchers (and I suspect a lot of MLBloggers) report to emerge from hibernation.

Thanks to all the well wishers, especially Matt over at Diamondhacks, who was kind enough to query as to my well being. I’m recovering quite well, I think, considering I just had a quintuple bypass. My doctor thinks I don’t quite appreciate the seriousness of the surgery, but I’ve seen open heart surgery move from the miraculous to the everyday in my lifetime. It is sad to think that if such miracles had been so readily available in my youth, my father would possibly be alive today. Heart disease is not an easy thing to live with. I’ve thought many times since the diagnosis how he must have felt, knowing the anxiety and sense of helplessness, especially in his time. But then, maybe he came to the same liberating conclusion I have, that we’re all mortal and, whatever we are given, it is enough.

My father passed on to me a love for baseball, a love which hasn’t always been requited. Baseball can break your heart. The night my father passed away I was angry with him for determining a catcher’s mitt was something of an extravagance for a seven year old. Of course it must be questioned why a seven year old was even trying on catcher’s mitts. I was, perhaps, more interested in painting and piano. Or maybe it was just a dream. His dream. There is something about baseball that forms bonds across generations.

That was, after all, forty years ago. And here we go again, baseball emerging from the dark of winter. There is a day every February when I look out the window and think: baseball. Today was that day for 2007. Here’s to hoping baseball doesn’t break my heart this year. There is reason for hope, for I’ve relearned the lesson that whatever is given, it is enough.

-- Michael Norton