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I have a love-hate relationship with baseball. Many people in baseball, or in professional sports, might not admit that, but I will. Yes, baseball has blessed us in many ways, but the sacrifices that have been made; well, we can’t get those moments back.
I’ve known Mike since high school. My senior year in college we started dating again. Because we were serious about our relationship and talking about marriage, after I graduated I moved across the country to be with him. Needless to say, my parents weren’t thrilled about my decision but I had to know if this lifestyle was for me. I knew there was going to be a lot of adjusting and it wasn’t going to be easy. No one tells you that you will spend most of the time alone in new cities. Sometimes you will have other girls with you, and other times you are completely alone. And like many of you, love won and so started MY baseball journey.
Fast-forward 13 years and 4 daughters later. Off-season’s are what we live for; to be a whole family, to go on dates, not be a “single parent”, have daddy pick up from school, and really just to have Mike home. Then come the phone calls, offering winter ball jobs paying good money that most people wouldn’t walk away from. I know baseball is a job, an unconventional one, but still a job. I also know that baseball has a way of pushing you out even if you’re not ready. So Mike goes because we don’t know when the phone will stop ringing. However, remember I mentioned that I made a lifestyle decision for me because I knew this was going to be hard. Well NO ONE ever warned me about how hard it would be to see your children’s heart break to see daddy leave over and over again. The crying at curbside drop-off cause you know they might not let go of him if you enter the airport. Explaining to them why he has to go and trying to believe the reason yourself. They didn’t make this lifestyle choice but they have to live with it. I know my girls are resilient like many athlete’s children are. This is their normal, they don’t know any other way, but it still doesn’t make it any easier. I think it actually gets harder.
So. to my fellow Sisters saying another “Good Bye” because a winter ball job called, you are not alone. I feel your pain.