A quick (?) life update…
I have some exciting news to share. This will be brief.
This week I accepted a marketing role with Major League Baseball's head office in New York. It's surreal typing that, and I can't quite put into words what it means to my family and me. It feels like a full circle moment. I'm proud of the work it took to get here and grateful for the opportunity. I'll work remotely through the school year and travel back and forth in between, and we're starting the research on neighborhoods, schools, all of it. Honestly, we're looking forward to the change of pace and the new adventure.
There's one memory that's been on my mind through this whole interview process.
My birth father left when I was very young. We share a name, a few personality quirks, and that's about it. It's a pretty sad story if I don't zoom out. When I do, I see all the amazing men who stepped up and "adopted" me as their own son. Mr. Lloyd. Our youth pastor, Chris. So many more. And then there was Dave.
““We were kids without fathers, so we found our fathers on wax and on the streets and in history, and in a way, that was a gift. We got to pick and choose the ancestors who would inspire the world we were going to make for ourselves.””
My grandmother Frances, my birth father's mother, was from England. From what I can piece together, she met my grandfather during the Korean War and followed him back to the States. They settled in Simi Valley, California, and made ends meet. She adopted my father and his sister and raised them as her own. She was an angel.
Dave hired her as the nanny for his kids, and she loved them like her own. Recurring theme here. His family still talks about her like she was one of them, and hearing those stories means the world to me.
This was supposed to be a quick update.
When I was born, she moved to Texas to help raise me. It was like she knew she was needed, and she took on being a grandmother like it was her purpose in life.
I remember her calling Dave almost every day on phone cards he gave her so she could call long distance for free. When I was six, she took me to Simi Valley for the first time.
Dave and I became best friends immediately. We went on adventures. We road-tripped to Northern California. We read the morning paper together and studied the MLB box scores. That first trip gave me a peace I didn't know was possible in a home and a family.
It became an annual summer trip, a few weeks at a time. He paid to fly me out because we couldn't afford it. Then it was multiple trips a year, sometimes even Christmas with my newly adopted family. He loved the Dodgers, which meant I loved the Dodgers. He took me to games every summer, and I learned everything I know about baseball from that friendship. I can still remember cool summer nights in Simi Valley listening to Vin Scully storytell his way through a game. The stories were better than the baseball.
My grandma passed away when I was still young, and somehow that only made our friendship stronger. He was the dad I never had. He came to every graduation and every big event. He was in my wedding. And he asked for nothing in return. Well, maybe a scoop of ice cream here and there.
He was the first person I called with good news. When he figured out texting, we'd send each other baseball news and bad jokes every few days. He was the first person I went to for advice. He was, and I don't say this lightly, the best human I've ever known.
When I graduated from college and landed my first job with the Round Rock Express, he was my first call. He was thrilled. He brought his grandson all the way to Central Texas to see a game.
One of my favorite memories with him is from the 2017 World Series. I was working for the Astros, and we happened to be playing his Dodgers. The owner split the staff in half and flew us out for the first two games at Dodger Stadium. I got Game 2 and could bring one guest. Sitting next to Dave while Marwin González took the unhittable Kenley Jansen deep in the ninth to tie it, then watching the Astros win it in eleven, is something I will NEVER forget. He even surprised me at the stadium by wearing an Astros shirt. Against his beloved Dodgers.
Gosh, I'm getting teary-eyed typing this, but my heart is full.
Dave passed away last year, and my heart is still broken. He would have been the first person I called about this. This time I sent it to his family's group chat instead, and they met it with the same love Dave always showed me.
The past few months of fun-employment/soul-searching/sabbatical/leaving-a-comfortable-role-to-bet-on-myself experiment have had their ups and downs. Lots of rejections and no's. Some tough decisions. But also some amazing highs, some special moments, and a LOT of growth.
I'm so excited for this next chapter. When I get to set up my desk in the New York office, the first thing going up is this picture of Dave and me. My adopted dad, and my baseball-loving best friend.
-rob