Yesterday was a grand day as I celebrated Opening Day with a dear group of friends.
As we watched the ballgame, we chatted amongst ourselves. Both as a group and in smaller, individual conversations. We talked about work, retirement, family, health, and we laughed about all the memories that have piled up throughout our lives.Then one of my buddies nonchalantly said that we are going to start losing guys from this group.
Morbid as it sounded during a gorgeous afternoon on the third base line at Comiskey, it was unfortunately the truth.
The statement was hard to handle and just as difficult to brush off.
To lighten the moment, I suggested we start a Deadpool. I would take the guy who pondered the idea and myself.
Then I suggested we not wallow in the conversation but rather enjoy the moment around us. It will be an instant memory tomorrow and a distant one in the years to come.
Someday we will gather and talk about the home opener in 2026 that fell on Good Friday and laugh about our Catholic guilt keeping us from eating a polish sausage.
Then, as we leave the wake, we will agree that Tom was right on that beautiful Friday afternoon in the fifth inning.
The lads we celebrated all our milestones in life with are vanishing from our lives.
What a morbid fucking thought on what I probably should have chalked about the shits and giggles we had instead.
But if one thing comes from that conversation in the April sunshine, it is this…
… I will love that group of men even more.
Give them hell Wild Turkeys, may we all be ghost runners in extra innings.
