The Little Boy..........(afterword)

The afterword begins following the jump, but first I would like to give my thanks to the many of you who expressed enjoyment with the original story. I appreciate your thoughts and expressions. I appreciate most  that YOU GOT IT. There are thousands upon thousands upon thousands of multi-generational Cardinals fans. We all have the same story. Maybe a few details vary, but it is still the same story. Whether you're a third, fourth or even a first generation Cardinal fan starting a tradition, we're all the same. We enjoy family, the Cardinals, baseball.

So for you who requested it, here is the afterword. Read it as you did the original, between the lines, inserting your names and details.

Sunday. Parade Day.

Driving into town I reflected upon what had happened. Life really is a circle. A completion. What goes around comes around. There's nothing new under the sun.

There's no need to discuss particulars, every play is emblazoned in our minds..

Games one and two were rough. My son and I sat together, with the third seat empty. I was not in shock as I had been in 1964, because death had not come suddenly, but still it hurt.

Game three, blown call by the first base umpire, Texas implodes. Circle complete. 1985 closed.

Back to St. Louis. We return to the ballpark, still with an empty third seat, for Game 6. Fly ball to rightfield, series over, but Cruz MISSES IT! Circle complete. 1968 closed. Rest in peace Curt Flood.

There is something special I want to do for the seventh game, but all I can do is suggest. It's time for me to pass the baton to my son. This will be his call.

Game 7. Somehow my son pulled it off! This game the third seat wasn't empty. It held a diaper bag, complete with the necessaries and extra blankets and clothes. The new little boy was at his first ballgame, just weeks old, arriving 10 days after the old man departed. Of course he was wearing the uniform his great, great-grandmother had made for his great-grandfather, but the hands barely reached the end of short sleeves  and the feet were lost in the pants pulled up to his arms. He was way too young for the game, but I needed him with us badly.

More circles completed. The miracle of 1964 became the miracle of 2011. Just as the Phillies collapsed in '64 and the Cardinals won the pennant and World Series right after my grandfather's death, so did the Cardinals do again this year after my father's death. 

A little boy at the 1926 series, a little boy at the 2011 series, both with the same name, circle complete.

So I reached town Sunday and parked my car. As I got out, my son came around and gently held my arm to support me. First time he's done that, I guess he wanted to be sure.

We walked to the spot where we wanted to be, my son holding the little boy. We looked at the still fresh grave, next to the older one. It was just the five of us. All with the same name. I was lost in my memories of the past, while now holding the one who made me immortal. I pulled back his little coat and sweater to look at his tiny t-shirt. Birds  on the bat. Just like his dad was wearing, just like I was wearing.

Life ends. Life begins. Circle complete. 

I wept as I smiled, holding the little boy.