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TOPIC: PLEASE READ~ HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY |
| Bobby
May 11, 2008
11:58:24 AM
Entry #: 2746678
| Please Read!!! Happy Mother's Day to all the special Ultimate Mom and Grandmoms!
THE MCNULTYS HAVEN’T BEEN THE SAME WITHOUT MOM.
By Ray McNulty ~ Columnist
I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t think about her as much as I should. She deserves better. From me. From life. So I’ll try to make up for it today on Mother’s Day, 20 years too late. I’ll try to tell her now what I should’ve told her all along, before she got the call from Heaven’s Hall of Fame. And I’ll tell her the best way I know. By telling you. In a sports column. She would’ve liked that. And, trust me, you would’ve liked her. Everybody did. Because she was special. It wasn’t until I was in my 30th year, however –on a sad and surreal Wednesday in late March in 1988—that I realized how truly special she was. I’ll never forget that day. That morning. That phone call. “You better get up here.” my youngest sister said from the hospital on Long Island. : It doesn’t look good.” So, I rushed to the airport, flew to New York and fought my way through two hours of rush-hour traffic that provoked the kind of hard consonants you’d hear in Tommy Lasorda’s office after a tough loss. Didn’t these people know the game was almost over? Didn’t they know how much was at stake? The home team was down in the bottom of the ninth, one out from a devastating defeat, with no real chance for comeback. And Mom was at the plate, battling desperately to stay alive against a pitcher that was working fast, facing the nastiest closer in the league. Cancer doesn’t throw away many late-inning leads. Mom, though, was still a tough out, even in her final at-bat. She knew her eldest child and only son was on his way from Florida, so she tried to take the game into extra innings, repeatedly fouling off strike three and stubbornly forcing her relentless opponent to work harder than anyone had a right to expect. There was even a moment, my sisters have told me, when it appeared Mom had gotten the best of him—when, just before the end, the healthy glow of yesteryear returned to her face. It was as if cancer had left a curveball hanging over the plate and with one last swat, she had blasted it for a life-and-death homerun. But the ball must’ve hooked foul. There would be no Kirk Gibson-like magic. There was no Bill Buckner to let victory skip through his legs. There was no miracle for Mom. By the time I reached the hospital, she was gone. And our team hasn’t been the same since. The Pirates weren’t the same without Clemente. The Yankees weren’t the same without Munson. The McNultys haven’t been the same without Mom. Mom, you see, was like most moms—which means she was as indispensable as she was irreplaceable. She was, in every way, the ULTIMATE team player. A dirty uniform needed to be washed for tomorrow’s Little League game? She’d step into the cleanup spot. A scraped knee required some first aid? She’d give you a few innings of relief. Dad was working and couldn’t drive you to practice? She’d pinch-hit for him. Mom could do it all. She led the league in sacrifices and assists. She played hurt. She was one of those special players who had a knack for making everyone around her play better. The team always came first. And I thought Mom was Cal Ripken. I thought she’d be in the lineup forever. Then came the cancer. And the treatments. And the hospital. And, finally, there was that awful phone call, the beginning of a bad day that changed everything. But, to this day—and especially on this day – I take comfort in remembering the three days after Mom died, when almost everyone who knew her showed up to say goodbye to the best friend anyone could have. The jam-packed funeral home reminded me of the scene at Yankee Stadium on Lou Gehrig Day. And I’m sure, as she looked down on us, that it made her feel like the luckiest woman on the face of the earth. But, she wasn’t. She was only 59 when that final pitch was thrown. She didn’t get to enjoy the golden years she had earned. She didn’t live long enough to be the grandmother she so dearly wanted to be. Again, she deserved better. From me. From life. But, I hope this helps. I hope telling all of you about her in a sports column—telling you about a special teammate who never got enough recognition or appreciation for doing all the little things that make a difference—helps make up for all those years when I didn’t tell her how much she meant to me. I know she would’ve liked it. But you know what she would’ve liked more? Somebody else’s son reading this column, then picking up the phone, calling his mom and making this best Mother’s Day yet. That’s how Mom was. That’s why everyone liked her. That’s why I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t think about her as much as I should.
Ray.mcnulty@scripps.com
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| Melanie- Summer Rain's Mommy
May 12, 2008
2:46:16 AM
Entry #: 2747366
| So very important to remind everyone not to take anyone for granted. What a beautiful tribute.
By the way, my Mom died when I was 14 - she was only 40 -
Tell your Moms you love 'em kids.
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| danielle turgeon
May 13, 2008
12:33:37 PM
Entry #: 2749247
| Thank U Bobbi,
I too lost my mother, one week after the birth of my twin daughters. followed by my Dad and Sister. All in less than a year.
although it gets overwhelming and lonely at times..( lots of times.) This misfortune has taught me to love and appreciate the people that I have been Blessed to meet.
Those individuals that have made such a positive impact on my girls.
GOD BLESS ALL OF YOU "MOTHERS", "GRANDMOTHERS", "STEP-MOTHERS that have accepted and love another's child."
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