A story about Darryl Strawberry and how cool my Mom is

When I was eight my Dad asked me if I wanted to play "coach pitch" baseball.  After he reassured me that the coach actually throws the ball and he doesn't try to strike you out, I reluctantly agreed.  I was placed on the Mets team and from that day on became a baseball fanatic.... and a New York Mets fanatic.  I had a Mets jersey, Mets jacket, and of course a fitted Mets hat for my oversized head (I grew into it), just like the pros wear.  

Every kid needs a sports idol and mine was Darryl Strawberry, cleanup hitter for the 1988 New York Mets.  My friends shared my obsession.  We watched his every move, and tracked every stat.  His baseball card (I eventually amassed 73 "Strawberry's") was always given a premium during trading.

Now comes the part about how cool my Mom is.  On March 12, 1989, she through a birthday party for me and all my friends.  Now it wasn't my birthday party, that would come a few months later.  She through us Darryl Strawberry's birthday party.  We played lots of baseball, had strawberry cake, strawberry ice cream, and strawberry candy (I still remember the pink Starbursts).  We even sang happy birthday to Darryl, he turned 27.  

6 Months later tragedy struck.  After vehemently defending him for weeks, I could no longer deny it.  It looked like Darryl was a wife abuser.  Even though I didn't fully understand the scope of the allegations (something about taking a crowbar to his wife's chest), I knew it was wrong and knew Darryl was no longer someone to look up to.  I was heartbroken.  Then I was mad.  I took my poster of him off the wall, and cut it into small squares.   I dumped the squares into an envelope with a simple note that said "Try and put your life back together".  Then, with my Mom's help, we mailed it to Darryl himself (or at least the address they gave us as part of his official fan club).  

We moved on.  We adopted Howard Johnson (HoJo), the Mets #2 power hitter as our new hero.  Darryl never did get his life back together, and in 1991 he committed the unpardonable sin... he joined the Dodgers, the arch-enemy and scorn of every Mets fan.

So now I know that the real hero was within arms reach the whole time - my Mom.