Season of heartbreak and happiness

How much of this sports stuff really matters? 

Over the past six weeks, I’ve asked myself that question again and again. A friend of the family took his life, and my mother turned 94. Yes, it has been a season of heartbreak and happiness. We all have them, right? I mean, that’s why we are here: to navigate through the good and the bad that life throws our way, and in my case, to trust God. 

I was in the home office and heard loud crying from the other room. Our youngest son had just received a call that his close friend had committed suicide. There is no playbook on what to say in that moment as we were huddled together, weeping and heaving on the family room floor. This young man was a sweet soul who spent time here in this office talking about his passions for movies and some sports stuff too. We had known him since kindergarten. 

-Will the Diamondbacks make the postseason? Will they fire Torey Lovullo? 

-Why did Marte bolt on his team in Boston? 

-Will they be “My” Cardinals or “Your” Cardinals this season? 

-Does Arizona State have the right quarterback starting? 

etc etc., etc., etc. 

None of the news cycle mattered to me.  There is no way to describe the grief and shrapnel that suicide brings; I’ve had conversations with two in my circle who lost someone who took their life, and it’s really helped. 

-Will Marvin Harrison Jr. catch a few footballs? 

-Will the Suns be any better this season than last? 

-Why won’t the NHL look at coming back to Arizona?

-Will Junior College Football come back to Arizona? 

etc., etc., etc., etc 

Mom lives in a small town in Kansas. No stoplight, no Walmart, not much of anything. One of my brothers moved her from Arizona four years ago so she could be closer to him. If you’ve been around Wichita and over to Lyons, that’s where Mom resides. She turned 94 earlier this week.

It was great to see Mom; she did the best she could in raising her three sons alone. She gets fixated on things from the past, and we just listen. No need to question. Just be present.  One day, she was napping, and I crawled into bed with her and fell asleep too. Our foreheads were touching when I woke up. She dozed for another couple of hours. I sat beside her bed, enjoying her peaceful snooze. 

We celebrated her birthday with shrimp from Applebee’s and a double chocolate cake from Walmart with a 9 and a 4 candle; I drove to McPherson, about 30 minutes away, to find what she wanted. Mom wants shrimp; by golly, we will find shrimp in the middle of Kansas. My brother played the piano and sang for her. I gave her a goodbye peck on the head and said, “Next year, I’ll bring lobster tails for your 95th.” She smiled and chuckled. 

-Will the Cardinals beat the 49ers? 

-Did Michigan lose at home to Iowa on the last play?

-Will USC start making eyes for Kenny Dillingham if they lose to Washington? The Trojans’ showing against Oregon was shameful on many levels, and it’s no secret that the House of Troy is a fan of the Arizona State head football coach. 

etc., etc., etc., etc.

None of the sports stuff really mattered to me until I got on the flight home from Wichita earlier this week. Sports do have a place. The world of fun and games is supposed to distract you from life, not be all you do. I’ve had a season where finding the balance hasn’t been easy. In fact, I had pretty much checked out these last six weeks. A season of heartbreak and happiness will tend to do that.

Back at it…