By Daniel C. DeCarlo
Note: Dan DeCarlo is a boardmember of the562’s non-profit and a Long Beach baseball dad.
I have always said I hate ends.
My son plays baseball for the University of Washington and Saturday was senior day. Sam has been playing baseball since he was four: he played youth ball at Long Beach Little League and at Whaley PONY where he got his first taste of the big time, getting on an airplane with his teammates to play in the PONY World Series in Pennsylvania.
Those games were televised and riled up a raucous crowd that gathered for a watch party at Legends for the championship game. Then came high school at Millikan where they won a CIF-SS championship and then, sadly, Millikan’s senior day. I felt sick. I loved those boys, those coaches and those experiences. I did not want it to end. But alas, even at that end, I knew Sam was going to keep playing in college.
But I really feared this senior day because this really could be the end. I had my moments during the season staring out at Union Bay beyond the outfield wall at Husky Ballpark (the most gorgeous ballpark setting I have ever been in) and lamenting the profound loss I was about to experience. Unlike all the previous ends, I had to digest the fact that Sam may not play baseball again. He wants to play professionally, but statistically we know that even the most talented college players don’t end up making a living in this unforgiving game.
For a few games, I sat by myself far down the right field line, not wanting my sobbing to disturb the other Husky parents. One good natured parent who noticed that I had isolated myself texted me in the 5th inning of a game, “hey Dan, should we be worried about you? Just want to make sure you are ok.” Baseball families are the best.
When Sam was a junior at UW, I advised the senior parents attending senior day, “you’re better than me, I’m boycotting senior day next year.”
I meant it: I hate ends.
For four years, my wife Laurie and Sam’s sister Serritella traveled around the country watching Sam play. We experienced brutal weather, heartbreaking losses, thrilling victories and met wonderful people. And soon, the “where are we going next week or next year” will be over.
But something happened last weekend. Sam’s uncles–my brothers and other close family–traveled to Seattle for the weekend. Many other family members who could not be there in person, smothered Sam with loving messages. I told my brother Mike, “It’s going to be tough”.
“No it’s not,” he said. “It’s time to celebrate.”
I know Sam felt the love and I know it helped him process his college career coming to an end. And indeed, something clicked in me and I realized my brother was right. Having my brothers there helped me in a way I can’t articulate. We have been playing ball together since we were kids, and now, in our 60s, the fun has not stopped and continued on Sam’s senior day. Ends flow into new beginnings is what I learned as a 60 year old last weekend.
We celebrated Sam on senior day. I did not cry and I can’t say I was even sad. I mostly beamed with pride and soaked in the privilege of being cushioned by family and friends. Sam will end up playing more games as a Husky than all but two other UW baseball players in the 125 year history of the program.
He stayed and played at one program for 4 years; something that virtually never happens anymore. The Huskies got a win against #1 UCLA in the final weekend which earned them a spot in the Big Ten Tournament. Senior day was glorious and boy did we celebrate.
I enjoyed the senior celebration knowing that the Huskies will keep playing baseball until they lose, so there was more baseball to be played. But the end is near and that’s ok. Maybe I have been looking at endings all wrong.
