Braves win! Braves win!

Sunday, Skip Caray died. He was an announcer for Braves baseball for over three decades. Hearing about his death took me back in time to sixth grade, during one of many seasons when daddy and I watched the Braves together on cable TV.

I never have been athletic, though I desperately wanted to be. It wasn't in me. I'm clumsy and weak, and my perfectionism throws a wrench in any sport I attempt, because I fly hot in a heartbeat if I can't do something right the first time. Add all of that together, and you'll see why my job in the world of sports is to be a lifelong spectator. (Occasionally, I like to play racquetball, mainly because the ball stays in the room, no matter where I hit it. Of course, it's fun only as long as we don't keep score.)

But, then there were the Braves. The only sport and the only team I've ever followed. I knew the players, I knew the schedule. I knew the voices of the announcers, including Skip Caray. I knew how many games out of first place they were (which was a lot when I was in middle school). I didn't care how many games they lost. I cared that my daddy and I watched every one of them together whenever he was home. It always seemed that the Braves lost when daddy was out of town, and we often joked that they couldn't win unless we were watching the game together.

It was a sign of summer (well a sign of spring, but in Florida, it felt like summer) when the Braves games started. And when the season was over, I waited patiently until spring training started again the next year. Donna and daddy time, learning about the game- the ONLY game I ever really got close to understanding. I usually can't tell if a pitch is a ball or strike, but the game usually goes slow enough for me that I have time to follow along and understand the plays.

I remember watching games by myself in my college apartment and I've watched many games with Brian over the years. Whenever I went home, we watched games with daddy.

Things have changed over the years and I rarely watch the games anymore. I've chalked it up to being busy with the kids and not having time to get into long baseball games. Of course, part of the joy of watching the games growing up was sitting with my daddy, cheering on the boys. I miss those days.

I imagine daddy and Skip Caray are having some pretty cool conversations right now, probably about pulling for the Braves during those years when they were the underdogs.

Rest in peace, Skip.
You too, daddy.