The Rookie

Since I have been an adult I have had a fascination about relationships between Fathers and Sons. Part of that is because of my personal emotionalism and I guess, mainly because my Dad  died fairly young --at least before I had an opportunity to just sit around and talk about various things with him. As a result I have been left wondering, sadly I might add, what he and I could have had by way a bond; a  comonality linking us together. Last night I watched a movie entitled "The Rookie" It was a story about a high school chemistry teacher who was also the baseball coach of the school and had a group of students who composed the team and were not very good. However his relationship with them was such that they enjoyed each other with much ribbing and kidding and because they were losing more games than they were winning, he challenged them to play better and they accepted the challenge if  he in return would try out for the professional baseball team that trained near their town. He had demonstrsted an ability to really throw a fast ball--throwing the cheese as it was sometimes referred to. He accepted the challenge providing they wouild win the county championship. They did and then demanded he live up to the promise he had made. Well, the story got all mixed up in his fatherhood duties, like changing the babies' dirty diapers at the baseball training grounds and the verbal abuse that he good naturedly received as he was about to go out and show his stuff to the  leaders of the team. The point though, was that his father had never paid much attention to him when he was a kid - like not attending  the games in which he had played and the strained relationship between them. I was reminded of me and my Dad. Not that there was a strained relationship between he and I. For the most part there was almost no realtionship. It was the days of the great depression and he was busy trying to hold a family together and feed them and somehow I understood this and was never troubled by this lack between us. There was never love outwardly spoken of and that was O.K. It was when I was in servi ce during WW2 and had come home on leave rather late at night. I entered my parents bedroom and was softly speaking with my Mother when my Dad woke up and instinctively reached up and wrapped his arms around me--the first sign I ever received that there was a bond between us. It hit me like a lightning strike and tears were running down my face realizing I was loved by my Father. From that night forward, I have always teared up when I would read,  hear or view a father son, show of love or affection. It just would grab me with the knowledge that he and I never had a chance to develop that affection. The world around us was such that I entered the Navy at 19 and married before I was released and then was busy developing my own family. Dad and I were never permitted to have the conversations, the togetherness that allowed a love to grow. The world had passed us by. How sad that I was not adult enough to try harder to love my Father. He passed away at a young age and I was left with a sense of loss that I felt was my fault. I could have tried harder. I should have known better. I am consoled with the knowledge that there will one day be a grand reunion and I will have the opportunity  to make up for that which was lost in this life. Almost sounds like a movie doesn't it? However, as a result, as before mentioned,  that whenever I become aware of a successful father son relationship I am reminded of  my loss. Getting back to the movie, the teacher showed he had the stuff, could really bring it, another baseball term, and became a major league pitcher. As a result he and his father were reconciled and oh I might add that as a boy, my dream of being a major league player was uppermost in my mind way back then--not that I would ever have successfully made it at a major league level but isn't that what dreams are all about? We dream the improbable and are content. Ah, to sleep, per chance to dream and sometimes those dreams become the realities of life. The Rookie made it and, of course, lived happily ever after.