Hi Everyone
I've been hinting that I was pulling hard for the Yankees this post-season, but not really giving the reason.
Many of you already know, but for those who don't, my father in law, Tim Connors put up a brave fight against brain cancer this year. The battle sadly came to an end last week.
As I was sitting there with him, watching the Yankees through this playoff run, and seeing the Dodgers take care of business against the Cubs, my mind wandered back to probably the first World Series I remember watching. The last Yankee-Dodger World Series, 1981.
As an 8 year old New Yorker, I thought I was doing my civic duty by pulling for the Yankees despite my being a Met fan. Because I couldn't stay up to watch the end of the games (and come to think of it, I still can't) my father was kind enough to write YANKS WON on an index card, and stick it on my night stand so that it would be the first thing I saw when I got up in the morning.
The first two games at Yankee Stadium, I woke up, happy to see that YANKS WON index card on my nightstand. After Game 3 in Los Angeles the index card was nowhere to be found. Games 4 and 5 were weekend day games, (remember those?) so I knew they had lost.
I watched the first few innings of Game 6 back in the Bronx. When I went to bed, the Yankees were winning and Tommy John was cruising. I fully expected to wake up the next morning, see the index card and get ready for Game 7.
I looked everywhere the next morning.....on the nightstand, under my bed, under my pillow.. then I thought maybe the big guy forgot. I mean that had to be it right?
I then over heard on the radio that they had lost. A couple of years later, when I really began to understand the game, I learned about Bob Lemon's decision to take Tommy John out, and a cavalcade of Yankee relievers gave up 9 runs. (again sound familiar?)
Needless to say I was disappointed that they lost, and I remember asking my father if he was as upset as I was.
He shook his head no.
Well why not?
He explained that he was a Dodger fan as a kid, and that whenever the Dodgers and Yankees played in the World Series, he always rooted for the Dodgers. His favorite players were those 1960's Dodgers, Willie Davis, Maury Wills, Wes Parker. Besides the Mets, the Dodgers were his team.
Except in 1977 he said. That year I rooted for the Yankees. I wanted them to win for Raffy.
Raffy was my mom's father, my grandfather who died suddenly in July that year.
And so I found myself this year rooting hard for the Yankees, to honor my father in law the way my father did for his 40 years ago. To send Tim out with a championship.
But the truth of the matter is, Tim Connors didn't need any team to win. He was every bit a champion in his own right.
He was a champion as a kid, making the long commute from Woodside to the North Bronx, playing football and going to school at Mt. St Michael High School. And he was a champion as a student athlete at Hofstra University.
He was a champion and a hero when he served his country in Vietnam. Earning his country's third highest civilian honor, the Bronze Star, for an unimaginable act of bravery that saved his platoon from capture.
He was a champion to the young brokers and traders that he took under his wing on Wall Street. A kind and compassionate mentor in a business that is more known for being mean and unforgiving.
He was a champion when at an age that most people begin to retire, he went back to school and took classes and landed a job working with medical records. That took courage and a self confidence that we all should be so lucky to possess.
He was a champion because he was a devoted and faithful husband to my mother in law Joan. In this day and age, that is an amazing thing and as special an example of true love as you will find anywhere anytime.
He was a champion because along with Joan, he raised three beautiful, strong independednt daughters, Tara, Kerry and Megan. I'm very lucky to have a wife as incredible as Tara. And I owe that to Tim and Joan.
He was a champion in his favorite role of all, as a Grandfather. Pop, to the three lights of his life, Timmy, Connor and Finley. His love for them, and theirs for him is a thing of beauty.
He was my champion too. No question about it. I could have easily been Meathead to his Archie Bunker, Phil Dunphy to his Jay Pritchett. But he never made me feel that way. Not once ever.
For as firecely loyal and protective as he was of his girls, he was protective of me as well. I never felt that he wasn't in my corner. I can't express how much that love meant to me. I will carry that with me for as long as I live.
The outpouring of love that we saw this past week will also stay with me for a long time. Three words I heard more often than not were "larger than life." It's one of those phrases that is often abused, but in this case I can attest to it's accuracy. He touched so many people with his generousity, personality and his love. I'm so lucky I had a front row seat these past 13 years to all of that. I'm sorry I missed the years before, but I look forward to hearing the stories.
For now all I can say is thank you. As an American, thank you for serving and defending our nation. As a husband, thank you for raising my amazing Tara. As a son in law, thank you for your love and support. As a dad and uncle, thank you for being such a wonderful Pop.
You really were, really are larger than life.
Our champion.
Thank you so much to everyone who reached out during this awful time. Your continued prayers and good thoughts are always appreciated.
Have a Great Week
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