"Hey Dad, wanna have a catch?"

by David Goldman 

I try not to complain. I really do. I think pushing yourself to have a positive attitude does, in large part, give you a positive attitude. I’ve jumped over quite a few medical and physical hurdles: diabetes, being blind in one eye and having poor vision in the other, and two transplants to name just a few things. I’m okay with all of them and all of the related surgeries, fixes, and work-arounds to keep me going. I’ve done what I’ve had to do to get by and I consider my life to be very full. There is one thing though that really does bother me and if you don’t mind, I’m going to gripe about it.

I have never been able to play catch with my son.

When I was a kid my friends and I would spend summer days playing baseball at the park or at the schoolyard. If we didn’t have enough guys to play, we’d figure out some shortcuts so we could: shortstop out, pitcher’s hand out, or other alterations to the game. But in between before we played and between games we’d play catch. Just two guys tossing the ball back and forth. What could be more natural? We’d throw lazy popups, hard, straight-line throws, grounders to the other guy’s backhand, and anything else we could think of. It was all very good natured. We’d work at improving each other’s game and while doing so, we’d talk. We’d talk about everything: sports, girls, TV, anything that came to mind.

I can still close my eyes today and actually smell the smell of it – freshly cut grass mixed with the leather of your glove. You couldn’t beat it. I know it wasn’t always this way, but in my memory the sun is always blazing in a beautiful blue sky with a couple of puffy clouds. Occasionally a plane would fly overhead and we’d look up and try to name the airline and what type of plane it was. Who knows how many hours we spent playing catch?  It seems like it was at least a couple of hours a day, every day while we were out of school.

What was really special was when my dad would ask if I wanted to have a catch. No matter what I was doing, I would drop it in order to have a catch with my dad. And the funny thing was, my dad really wasn’t very good at it. He’d wear this old style glove that was just kind of flat and didn’t really fold. It wasn’t fancy, but it did the job. I don’t think my dad knew it, but he’d be smiling most of the time when we were tossing the ball. Just a perpetual grin on his face. I think it brought him back to his childhood. He’d never play long. About 10 minutes was it. When he said he was done I’d beg for a few more throws and he’d usually oblige. Even with no words being said between us there was a special kind of bonding going on.

What brought up these nostalgic memories? On this past Father’s Day I saw the phrase, “Hey Dad, wanna have a catch?” posted twice on Facebook by ESPN and the Chicago Cubs. Seeing it was what got me thinking about this. Not that I haven’t before. When I saw it I really started thinking about not being able to play catch with my son.

The problem is simple. Diabetes has taken its toll on my eyes and left me with only partial vision in one eye. With only one eye you have no depth perception. Besides that, I have blind spots in my “good” eye so while I may see the ball on its way to me momentarily, it will suddenly disappear and then reappear right in front of me. Not good. Ground balls are easier but throwing it back is iffy since I can’t judge the distance properly.

I feel bad for my son. I feel like he missed out on a classic, father-son experience. I tried playing catch with him a few times but there was no point. I could only get boinked in the head or chest so many times before I knew I should give it up. At little league when all the dads were warming up their kids, I sat in the bleachers wishing I could participate in this simple activity. My son says he never minded and he always understood. But I still feel bad. I feel more than bad. I feel guilty. I feel like it’s something I should have been able to do, that there was a way it could have happened, but I couldn’t figure it out.

So this Father’s Day when I read “Hey Dad, wanna have a catch,” I closed my eyes and went back. 

We’re outside. The sky is a deep blue and I’m standing on the lawn with my son. There are birds chirping behind me and the distant sound of children laughing. I can smell the lighter fluid someone’s using to light their grill. We toss the ball back and forth a few times and then he tosses a high popup into the sky and yells “get it!” I look up and use my free hand to shade the sun from my eyes. I see the ball and it’s just starting to come down. As I lift my glove up toward the ball it passes my nose and I get that slight scent of leather. I move back two steps and then two more. I can see the seams on the ball as it’s spinning downward. I’m in position. The ball pop as it hits my mitt and I close my fingers around it.