My hometown is an hour and half up river from St. Louis. We were on the Illinois side of the Mississippi, which, according to my Chicago-born husband, should have made us Cub fans. But we weren't. The Nesbit's are Cardinal fans. We have a brick declaring that on the sidewalk outside of the new Busch stadium. It was one of two presents we gave my parents they were delighted to get. The other was a flat screen TV.

Every summer we saw at least one game at Busch Stadium. I entertained myself by scraping gum from seats and staring at people until they looked. Sometimes I stared until they got mad. When I was older I checked out boys in the stands and decided which one I wanted to marry. Once, a foul ball from somebody (Bob Gibson?) landed in my row. My brothers yelled at me to get it, but boys were jumping over seats and coming my way. The boy I picked for my husband was in the lead. He got to it first. I smiled and he smiled back. I was thrilled. My brothers are still mad.

We had one television and my father ruled the channel. My mother and I rolled our eyes and begged for something besides football, basketball, baseball, tennis, or golf. We rarely won.

I left home and Mom surrendered.

She must have seen the Phil Donahue Show about keeping your husband happy through cultivating a shared interest. My father’s interests were science, politics and sports. She opted for the easiest one. Her letters began to include sports updates. I called home and asked how things were going. She told me how far out the Cardinals were from first place. She bought a small TV for the kitchen. I thought she used it to watch the murder mystery shows we both loved. It was tuned to the same game my father watched in the living room.  She didn’t want to miss anything while fixing dinner and timed the meal to be done at half time. I thought she was faking enthusiasm, but her commitment was impressive.

Her stroke convinced me she was serious. She temporarily lost short term memory and I sat in the hospital with her for three days. She wanted to watch the sports channel. This was the week Tiger Woods won his first Masters and every time it was announced she cheered. “Oh my! Tiger WON!!! HE WON!!!”

Two years before they died, my parents moved to an assisted living apartment minutes away from me. My brothers and I came to help them pack. The night we were to arrive was Game 5 of the 2006 World Series. The Cards were playing and if they won this game, they won the series. My brothers flew from Arizona and Oregon to St. Louis, met in the airport and rented a car. I drove from my home several hours away. As I got closer I remembered the game and turned on the radio. They were in the sixth inning. It was possible I could get there before the game ended. Twenty miles away I was pulled over for going 90. The cop wasn't sympathetic. He was a Cub's fan. 

I arrived before my brothers. It was the top of the eighth and Detroit was at bat. My parents were pleased I knew that. The Cards were ahead by two and managed to strike them out. But Detroit struck the Cards out with no additional runs. It was the ninth inning and Detroit was threatening with only one out. A car door slammed and my brothers ran in. If there were hugs I don't remember them. We watched and screamed and yelled as the Cardinals claimed their tenth World Series. For a few moments we forgot we were there because our parents could no longer live on their own. The Cardinals winning the series made that week-end happier than I thought it could be.

My parents' new apartment had a living room and a bedroom with free cable outlets in both, but my mom said they only needed one TV. Every time I came to visit they were watching sports. Dad turned down the sound to talk. My mother kept her eyes on the TV and yelped if something exciting happened.

For the three weeks between my mother’s death and his own, Dad rarely watched television. If it was on, he didn’t know the score, or who was playing. I had a dream soon after he died. I was in a crowd at Busch Stadium and saw the two of them. They were heading out to the field. I caught up to Mom and she said, “Oh, my. You have no idea how much better the games are here. We get to be out on the field with them!” And off she went. I've never seen her happier.

Go Cards.

All word © by Sharon Nesbit-Davis

photo credit: Getty Images