Cheering for Papa

I’m the sentimental kind.

Today I cheered and screamed at the television

to watch the San Francisco Giants win Game 2 of the NLCS.

I was all alone in my little apartment.

The windows were open, but I shouted when I needed to anyway.

As I pumped my fist for Angel Pagan’s home run,

I started to think of my grandpa, otherwise known as “Papa.”

Baseball was his favorite sport

and many of my memories of him include him rooting for the Miami Marlins.

I can recall many times coming home from a day of shopping with Abuela

to find Papa on the couch glued to the game.

When he was still alive, I was hardly a baseball watcher.

I’d greet him with a kiss and then help Abuela with the cooking

and leave him to his game watching.

But these days, thanks to my boyfriend, I call myself a Giants fan.

I’m still learning the ways of the game, and memorizing players,

but I can actually now report that I do like baseball.

Catching myself cheering louder than I should,

I wished more than anything

that Papa could see me rooting for a team

and loving the game as he once did.

I hope it would have made him proud.

I’m the sentimental kind.

Go Giants!


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