In Praise of Mothers

By Mark Bacon

I lost my Mother April 30, 2016. She passed peacefully in her sleep at the age of 93. I’m willing to wager a significant proportion of MESports readers, and society in general were, like me, raised by a single parent. That fact alone makes our Moms athletes of the highest order, running to stay ahead of us, keeping us from harm, and keeping us on what Mom called “the straight and narrow.”

Why am I sharing this on a Sports site? Because Alice, my Mother, encouraged my participation in athletics early and often. To give me structure and keep me from some of the bad on the streets. When I was discouraged, she encouraged. When I was injured, Mom became a nurse. We had little money, but she sacrificed to keep me in Chucks as a boy, when my feet grew every few months, seemingly.

And Alice sacrificed funds to take me to Louisville Cardinals basketball games going back to Coach Dromo, KY Colonels games and even a NY Knicks game (because Clyde was my hero, and this little beige kid went to bed every night asking The Lord to transform me into a 6’4” Black point guard extraordinaire. It didn’t happen, by the way.) Those evenings were too special for me to aptly describe. I cherished each game.

Futbol, or soccer, came natural to me. It was in my genetic makeup. Mom was German, and her Father played. I played for the old Tyler Park FC when we used Seneca Park as home base. It was a block away. (That neighborhood was immigrant and working class in those days.) Mom would have loved to watch my games, maybe even snuck over to spy, but I never wanted her to come. I was a defender, and a bit of an enforcer. And just might goad opponents into swinging at me. Maybe. Fearless. 

Just like Alice faced life fearlessly as a single parent in the 1960s, before all the rights and attitudes became manifest decades later, allowing single parent women more respect and better wages.

I’m very proud of her view towards all people. “We are all the same, Mark,” she would tell me. Religion, skin color, and individual choices, especially when different from ours, were to not only be honored and respected, but celebrated. A way to learn more about people. “Alle Leute sind Brüder.” All people are brothers. She lived it, and I learned it.

All my friends were welcome after games to my house. Mom loved every kid who walked in there. And they loved her.

The photos of Shaquille O’Neal, Wes Unseld and Kareem Abdul Jabbar are included here because she encouraged me to watch them, and learn from them, even though she knew I wasn’t going to achieve my dream of toiling in the NBA. Alice admired them as MEN of character and principle. Hard working. Men who stood by their beliefs, sometimes in the face of derision. She told me to dream big dreams, as they did. All are great men to this day, who have lessons to share far beyond their playing days. (She LOVED Shaq!!! Just loved him. Mr. O'Neal, you made her laugh so much, I want to thank you here. I wish you could receive these words of sincere gratitude. Kareem and Westley, too. She recognized character.)

She KNEW basketball, too. I cannot describe my shock and delight when she would say “why don’t they run a flex cut and free the off guard for a high percentage shot? Or “Don’t they recognize they’ve gone into a zone? Why don’t they pass into the seam??” Or “Will Vitale just be quiet for a minute?!” She loved Jay Bilas, too. We spent many evenings, just the two of us, watching NBA or NCAA games.

I ask all of you who have grown up with Moms who supported, cajoled, played nurse after game injuries and sacrificed to get you new Chucks when you outgrew the old ones, to reach out today and say thanks. Sports teach life lessons. Mothers teach eternal lessons. If they are near you, give Momma a hug and kiss like you mean it. If they have gone on, remember them in your way.

And thank you Mom. I love you, miss you, and Happy Mother’s Day, with love. And to all Mothers out there, Happy Mother's Day, with love and peace the rest of your days.

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