Sadly, Labor Day weekend is now entrenched in my brain as the weekend my dad died. It was September 1, 2001, to be exact. I failed to mention the third anniversary here, because… well, I don’t exactly know why.
I guess it is because I don’t want to make an annual tradition to light a bloggy candle for him. I don’t do it for my mother, who passed away in 1996, and it’s not like I love one of them more than the other. However, since I’m sitting here waiting for the storm to hit, I just noticed the coincidence of the Sept 1 date being the day the Indians rolled over the Yankees.
Dad was a Yankee fan when he was a kid and all the way up through his time in the service. Mickey Mantle was his hero. And while he listened to the Red Sox after getting “stuck” in Maine, he really didn’t take sides in the rivalry until Steinbrenner took over the Yanks. After that and the resulting free agent spending spree (he really, really, really despised Reggie Jackson), he became a true Yankee hater. I can just imagine the joy Tuesday night’s game would have brought him.
Of course, he was also a true Sox pessimist. His reaction to their 10 game winning streak would have been, “Yeah, they’ll probably have a one game playoff and lose it again.”