It exposes my challenges inheriting a blended family and failures in my ability to step outside my own rigid routines and adapt. My failure to ask the right questions and better understand the goals and dreams of a 23 year old.
I want to preface this by saying that Mal has 4 children. And each and everyone of them is so completely unique and brilliant in their own way. Mattingly is the oldest and pursuing his dream as a professional baseball player. Casey is next in line and has ambitions of acting and has recently graduated from York University. He is truly one of the funniest, wittiest and independent people I've ever met and adds so much character to whatever setting he's in. Bailey is the only daughter and has this week graduated from ECE and is so talented with children that you would want her to look after yours. She has the greatest smile, a contagious laugh and a heart of gold. And Keegan is the youngest - he's a character that combines a little bit of everyone. He sings and dances and can crush Bruno Mars and throws a pitch that shows another baseball career ahead. Not one of them is any better than the other and they all showcase their own individuality by their unique traits. I may write about all of them in due time when I have the right depth to do so.
Today's story is about Mattingly.
I'm not picking him over and above anyone else - I want to share that he has taught me a lot from the past Winter of living with him. I believe it sends a great message of digging deeper and judging less.
This is not the story of a Sports Writer on his journey, this is from a friend. I think at 43 years old, it's somewhat ridiculous to think I'm a Stepmother-ish figure. This "child" is 23. He is old enough to drive, old enough to drink and has attended college. He is an adult. He technically could have his own children by this point. Therefore, I am his friend. His roommate. Someone who happens to cook his meals more than not, not in any way shape or form a future Stepmom nor ever comparable to his Mom. Someone who has a drink with him when Mal is at the park. Someone who listens to him and his stories without prejudice and sometimes without response. He's alive when he's talking to me and I am so very lucky for my relationship with him.
Last July, Mal and I bought our home in downtown Burlington. And I'm going to be honest here and say, I'm not so sure we ever thought anyone was moving into it with us. There are no walls, the whole house is a loft set up with open airways extending from the main floor to the upstairs. There are two homes in one, which is hard to explain, but there is a breezeway that connects the original cottage to the addition. It is not overly conducive to a family and some days I'm not sure what on earth we were thinking.
Last May, Mattingly was drafted to the Toronto Blue Jays minor league system. The day will forever be crystal clear in my memory as we listened to the audio for his name to be called. Emotions were sky high as he had a 48 hour time period to pack his bags and go. I can remember tearing up when his name was called and seeing his complete elation. The reality that he was going to play. Years at Chicago State University playing ball and performing well and a shot at the big leagues. We were all so high, phones ringing, calling him Mom and Grandpa and Grandma - sports writers calling. Everyone wanted a story.
So, off he went.
He played in Bluefield last year and came home in September.
I'm not focusing on his stats, he had a tough start and that is important in this story.
Where I want to focus is this past 6-7 months.
Mal called me and said that Mattingly is coming to live with us for the Winter. It's his kid, ya know, and he needs a good shot at this and we need to do whatever we can to support. He's going to get a full-time job right away and contribute to the household and we will charge him monthly rent and it's only a few months and... and.. and...
I love my time with Mattingly. He shows up and it's beers all around and I have a new roommate. He's my friend, my buddy and it's amazing to have his company.
A few weeks go by and there is no job. There is no rent. There is no what I considered to be contributing to the household. I'm trying not to be sour here but I'm spending $165 every 3 days feeding this future baseball player who needs to get strong and only eat organic vegetables and grass fed meat. It's wearing on me a bit and somewhat pricey.
And it's wearing on Mal because I'm feeling strained.
And I totally don't want to upset the apple cart or interfere.
I'm trying to work remote while the first few weeks Mattingly is lying on the couch playing MLB playstation. To me, I can't comprehend why he isn't looking for a job.
To him, he's recovering his body from the stress it has taken both mentally and physically and his results. He is on his laptop analyzing players and pitchers and instructional videos and trying to figure out how he can respond differently.
I see he hasn't moved.
My solitary remote working world is interrupted. And I don't know how to handle it. I'm tiptoeing around trying not to wake him in the mornings and he is tiptoeing around our home, my office, not to interrupt me.
He starts with SST - sports specific training. He pays his own way and busts all his efforts to build himself as strong as possible to be ready for Spring Training. Every day he comes home exhausted, ruined from the pressure on his body. Always telling me how tired and sore he is and how hard his workout was.
I see that his bathroom isn't clean and his sheets need to be changed and how on earth does he not see this.
This goes on for ages and eventually he gets a job grinding at Porsche washing cars.
Let's fast forward to Spring Training 2016.
He is called up to the big leagues to play against Team Canada.
And my emotions are swirling as it all finally clicks.
This is Mattingly. So unbelievably driven by his goal to play professional baseball that any outside world does not exist. He doesn't care or see what needs to be cleaned, what needs to be paid for, any of my silly little stressors. He sees baseball. He sees his dream so clearly that everything else is child's play in comparison. He sees a goal. He is spending every waking minute visualizing what he looks like in that uniform, how his swing is, how he responds to the pitcher, how he can study for 5 more minutes and learn how he can handle the next year different than the last. He stands in the living room taking mock swings in the air practicing. Over and over. Effort. Practice. This is his dream. There is truly nothing else. It is all consuming.
Shame on me to worry about the house and the condition of the bathroom or what he contributes. He's in a different world. And it isn't right or wrong. It's where he's at. And domestically he's just not there yet. So what at 23? You can't force anyone to be where they just haven't traveled yet. One day he's going to ask me for help buying linen. And I will laugh. But right now, he's swinging a bat. He's living in the equivalent of grown up camp. Restrictions on alcohol and girls that most people at 23 never have to deal with. A per diem to get through the day that is lucky if it buys Chipotle. And a goal so driven that that is his only focus.
I am in the bleachers at the Team Canada vs Blue Jays game. My heart is in my throat. There he is. In a Blue Jays major league uniform. #76. Standing a few players over from John Gibbons. Hand over his heart. Cap in his hand. The Canadian national anthem starts. I am choking back tears. I am standing next to one of Mal's best friends Dale. I smile ear to ear. He is doing it. He is standing in that line up ready to crush it. And he LOOKS like he belongs. He belongs on this team. He belongs playing baseball. He is strong and well prepared and he belongs.
My emotions are flooded as it all starts to make sense.
The Winter Nonsense all disappears.
It's gone.
I am holding back tears.
Lump in my throat grows.
I start taking photos for his Mom like a lunatic.
What angle haven't I got yet?
What would she want to see that I haven't captured?
Because see - that's the other part of a blended family. When you are blessed to figure it out. We are all in this together - and how very much would she want to be there and see him play this game.
I still have my ticket from that day. It is ready to be in a frame with a photo for his Mom. And trust me, that this is no self serving notion saying this. A Mom deserves that momento for her oldest son who she has watched since he was a toddler playing t-ball. It's not about me. And for anyone who is part of a divorce or a new relationship, we have to find our place in the process. I am Mattingly's friend. Not his parent. And I too have grown from watching him and learned about some of my own misconceptions along the way.
And as his friend, I am so very proud to see his effort and journey.
As he rounds out his Extended Spring Training, there isn't a day that goes by, I wonder where he will go and what his season will bring.
And my dear friend Mattingly Romanin, I acknowledge every ounce of your efforts and hard work. And no question I underestimated so much of your studying and recovery.
And when the day comes, I will have a cold beer ready for you when you come home.
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