That’s My Mama!

Baseball has always been the dominant sport in the Youngquist household. From the earliest of ages, Morgan and Carson were out in the yard playing catch. Claire played softball for a few years, but was more a student of the game. She watched baseball with Amy and I and was astute enough to grasp its’ strategic underpinnings and pastoral elegance.

One of our first dates as a couple was to a Milwaukee Brewer game. We tailgated outside old County Stadium, played cribbage, and enjoyed the sunshine. I always teased Amy that she did not remember who was playing (Seattle) but she did remember that the Brewers came out on top that day.

After several years in Milwaukee, I was invited to join the Cream City Fantasy Baseball League, a group of eight gentlemen who also loved the game. This group formed long before fantasy sports took off with the advent of online stats and drafts. The two founders created the league with the goal of making it as realistic and true to the game as possible.

Thus, there was no draft, but each team is afforded a $260 budget and the season begins with an auction of available players. The general managers have to stay within their $260 salary cap and balance their rosters with offensive stats that earn them runs and defensive stats which earn them subtraction of runs against their opponents.

In the early years of the league, before the advent of email, each general manager had to submit their weekly rosters by mail. It was controversial when one year, a general manager showed up with a laptop computer! Now it is the norm for everyone to have a computer or tablet to organize their auction strategies using the latest news feeds and online rankings.

My team, the Sussex Sharks, managed by Niccolo Machiavelli, has notoriously never won the championship. One year I hosted the Auction. When Claire came home, she reviewed my player acquisitions and proceeded to critique me in front of my fellow general managers. I have never lived this moment down and continue to get jibes from them yearly about Claire’s thoughts on my strategies.

Another year, Amy came home during the auction. On the counter was the coveted Cream City traveling trophy. It was designed to be as big and tacky as possible. When Amy noticed the trophy, she went out of her way to fawn over it and told the group, “So this is what the championship trophy looks like. Thank goodness it won’t ever be displayed in our house!”

Another comment that continues to be brought up every year at our annual Auction.

When Morgan and Carson were little, they loved baseball so much, I had to lie about their age to get them into their first baseball league. They only accepted players who were five years old or older. They wanted to play on a team so bad, I lied about their age and signed them up as four-year-olds. Obviously, I also had to volunteer to coach the team.

As the years went by, they developed into pretty good players making several select teams. When they were in high school, they joined one of the three or four elite programs in Milwaukee at the time, STIKS Baseball Academy. Morgan was a left-handed pitcher and played first base. Carson was a catcher.

Unfortunately, the boys were plagued by injuries or freak accidents. Over their careers, both Morgan and Carson were frequent fliers at local hospitals and clinics. Morgan with a hip pointer and elbow issues and Carson with just plain freak accidents that seemed to always find him while on the field.

Our baseball travels took us far and wide from the Atlantic Ocean to the red clay of Georgia and the cornfields of Iowa. During their freshman season on STIKS, the team travelled to Georgia for a large Perfect Game tournament. The team played well but fell short in bracket play. Their last game took place at a local high school. During the middle innings, Carson accomplished a feat I have never witnessed before and likely will never see again. He fouled a ball off his bat directly into his face. Because of his diabetes and a possible concussion, he was transported to Emory University Hospital in downtown Atalanta. Amy of course rode in the ambulance with him. Fortunately, it was only a broken nose.

When they were Sophomores in high school, their team was entered into a Perfect Game tournament in Iowa. Amy and I made the trek to Des Moines to watch the boys play. Their team did not do particularly well and ended up playing in a consolation game against another Milwaukee based select team.

At some point in the game, one of the opposing players hit a high foul ball in front of the third base dugout. Carson and Cam (their team’s third baseman) converged on the ball. They collided at full speed with Carson’s arm outstretched reaching for the ball. His arm hit Cam’s chest and both went down in a tangled mess.

That’s when the screaming started. Carson writhed on the ground holding his arm. He had dislocated his elbow. It seemed like forever for the EMT’s to arrive and immobilize his arm with an air cast before taking another ambulance ride to the local hospital. In the ER, an x-ray quickly confirmed the diagnosis. We had to wait for the orthopedic specialist on-call to arrive at the hospital. While we were waiting, nature called and a nurse and I helped Carson relieve himself into a bedpan.

The orthopedic doctor arrived after about a 45 minute wait. Carson was given some strong pain medication in anticipation of the doctor resetting the bones. He reviewed the x-ray and asked for the family to wait down the hall. Amy, Morgan, and I all winced as we heard Carson scream in agony when the doctor reset his elbow.

The nurse came and indicated we could rejoin Carson. I have heard stories of people losing their inhibitions while on pain medicine and YouTube is flush with examples. Carson did not disappoint.

When Amy appeared in the doorway to Carson’s room. He very loudly proclaimed to the entire Emergency Room, “Mama! That’s my Mama!”

Amy smiled from ear-to-ear at the proclamation from her 6’4” inch 200 lbs. 15 year-old son . It was said with such love and enthusiasm it made everyone smile.

When his identical twin brother (who was recording the entire incident) entered the room Carson declared, “Morgan! You are soooooo handsome!”

Amy, Morgan and I as well as the nursing staff were all laughing, but Carson was not done yet. When he saw me he became serious and lowered his voice. “Dad! I remember.”

“Remember what” I asked.

“You helped me.” He declared (referring to the bedpan).

I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I quickly shrugged it off and simply said “Yes, I did.”

His response was an instant classic. “IMPRESSIVE, WASN’T IT!!!”

The entire room burst out laughing. His brother had captured the moment on video, but I told Morgan directly, “You are never to post this to social media. He will never live it down.”

Our families love of baseball comes not only from the game, but from the hours and hours we spent together as a family traveling all over the country, dinners and lunches with teammates, waiting for games to begin, as well as watching the boys play.

Given baseball was such an integral part of our family life, it was only fitting that we said goodbye to Amy at a baseball field. Her Celebration of Life was held at Wisconsin Brewing Company Park, home of the Lake Country Dockhounds.

The visitation line started in the clubhouse and snaked down the stairs for hours. The funeral directors eventually asked the family to work down the line so that we could start with the Memorial portion of the gathering.

Baseball will always be an integral part of our family and we have countless of happy memories with Amy. Whether it was on the side of the Freeway watching the boys trying to stretch out cramps from an earlier game or watching Amy fall asleep to a game only to have her wake up with a start and ask us for the score.

There really are only two seasons in the Youngquist household. Baseball season and the off-season.