The Baseball Spirit

By Caleb Matthewson

It was summer, and my parents sent me to spend time with my grandpa for my thirteenth birthday. He had been diagnosed with cancer the Christmas before. I was in this strange rebellious stage, and I decided to bring my skateboard and skates and not spend much time with him. I knew some kids down the street, and I was going to hang out with them. I was a major baseball fan (I strongly favored the Cardinals), so when I was packing, I slipped my baseball glove in my backpack too, thinking I could maybe play a little catch. I had planned everything.

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't trying to be mean or anything; I loved my grandparents, and it would be great to see my grandpa. I just wasn't planning on hanging out with him; but then, I never thought the spirit of baseball could bring two people together the way that it did that summer.

I was on the computer at my grandparent's house when Grandpa asked me if I wanted to play catch.

"Sure," I said, reluctantly.

We went outside to play catch, and at first I didn't think much of it, but with every throw, I realized that I was feeling more and more connected to him. I felt like I could have played catch with my grandpa forever. Later that night, he showed me his Mark McGwire first baseman's mitt and his Mickey Mantle bat. I thought those were the coolest things in the world.

On August 13, we went to a St. Louis Cardinals game at Busch Stadium. While I was watching my heroes, like Fernando Vina, Albert Pujols, Jim Edmonds and Mark McGwire, my grandpa was telling me all about his childhood heroes. Through that whole game, I felt even more connected to him.

Toward the end of my time in Illinois, I found Grandpa's book about Mark McGwire's historic 1998 season. He caught me looking at it so much that he decided I could keep it, and he signed it to me:

To: Caleb Mathewson

From: Maynard Mathewson "MATTY"

Remember the summer of 2001

Grandpa

I didn't think much of the autograph then, but later, I treasured it more than anything.

That night I had to get ready to go home, and we decided to go outside and play catch for what turned out to be one last time. My grandpa and I laughed and talked while I did my best imitation of the top Major League pitchers, not knowing how much I would treasure this moment later in life.

I came back to Illinois the next summer with my family to see him. My grandpa was confined to his bed and barely able to walk. The cancer had spread to every bone in his body.

The very last time I saw him was the last night I was there. I was in his room watching a Cardinals game on television with him. He struggled to sit up and said, "If anything happens to me, I want you to have my Mark McGwire first baseman's mitt and my Mickey Mantle bat." It meant so much to me, I can't explain it. I could barely hold back my tears.

Two days later, his lungs filled up with fluid and on August 13, 2002, Maynard Mathewson died at 1:00 A.M., exactly one year to the day of attending that Cardinals game with me, which was still so fresh in my memory.

When I went to his funeral, on his casket there were two baseball caps. One was a Yankees cap and the other was the same St. Louis Cardinals cap that he wore to the Cardinals game that we attended together.

Because of my grandpa and the love for the game that we shared, I know that I'll always have the baseball spirit in me. The bat, the glove and the book that he gave me are always with me to remind me that my grandpa, Maynard Mathewson, and I will forever be connected by the spirit of baseball and the summer we spent together.

http://www.chickensoup.com