Wednesday, January 30, 2013

End zone

Let's face it. In the grand scheme of things, sports American style, aren't all that important.

To misquote my good friend Rick Blaine, "The problems of grown men playing a child's game don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world."

But then again, in the grand scheme of things, what is important? Spending time with friends and family? Getting the most enjoyment of what little time we have together? Accepting that life is suffering, and it's better to do it with people we love than alone?

Curtis Kitchen has a great post today. It's about an old story. A tragic story that happens over and over, and will happen to all of us eventually. 

Still, there's something to be said for an old story well told.

Five of his sons were in the room, as were a daughter-in-law and an infant granddaughter, a full group that would spend the next week together starting the next day, nearly 24 hours per day, in a hospice care facility. The NFC Championship game was on the hospital television, and while the volume had been kept low for the most part, it was turned up as a replay was analyzed. The camera flashed to San Francisco coach Jim Harbaugh, who clearly disagreed with the replay call on a disputed completed pass.

As his morphine intake increased in a morbid race against his body’s increasing pain, Dad had spent recent days mostly asleep, only waking when his failing body demanded water, or when a nurse would attempt to move him in his bed. However, as it turned out, that replay moment came in the middle of Dad’s last rally, and he had gone as far as to sit up a bit in bed, fully alert, enjoying both the company in his room and the game.

That’s when, despite his voice being mostly a loud whisper by that point, Dad let the 49ers coach have it.

“Shut your mouth, Jim Harbaugh!”

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