The Exhausted Dad: Parenting vs. playoffs: A battle for time

My school schedule this semester conflicts with some of my favorite acts of parenting. I enjoy picking them up from school and hearing about the day’s activities and interactions with other kids. I love cheering from the sidelines at games, and I’ll even brave a crowded auditorium to see a band concert or talent performance. That’s big for an introverted germaphobe, OK?

Unfortunately, my classes this semester run up against many of these after-school opportunities for connection. Add a 20-year-old baseball curse to the mix, and you’ve got a very conflicted, exhausted dad.

The Minnesota Twins have been the only major sport team I’ve ever cared about in my life. I grew up loving baseball, seeing games with my grandparents and cousins at the Metrodome before the team upgraded to beautiful (and sometimes frigid) outdoor baseball at Target Field.

I have vague personal memories of the 1991 World Series (I was 7 years old), but beyond that, my entire adult life has been painful memories of the team losing in the playoffs.

As some might know, the Twins recently held the record for most consecutive losses in the playoffs… for any of the four major men’s professional sports. 0 and 18. Prior to this year, it had also been 21 years since they’d won a playoff series.

I blame the Yankees. Mostly.

Spoiler alert for week-plus-old baseball games: The Minnesota Twins FINALLY won a playoff game and subsequent series, beating the Toronto Blue Jays in the American League Wild Card Series.

I watched the end of the first win on my phone, standing in a crowd of other parents while waiting for the start of an elementary school cross-country meet. I watched the end of the second game on my phone standing on the first base line at my daughter’s softball game. Both days I had to ditch my own school responsibilities to see any of these athletic activities. My logic: If I had double the reasons to skip class, then it counts as excused.

For Game 1, I truly tested the battery power of my smartphone. I watched the first couple innings before one school gig, where I then had to turn the phone off for an hour, then I listened to middle innings while driving from my school to the cross-country event where three of my children were participating. The kids were arriving by bus, and the buses were late, leaving me alone at the school until my wife (picking up our fourth child) arrived.

The Twins were leading in the ninth inning, 3-1, thanks to a shutdown performance by the pitching staff and the heroics of Royce Lewis. After all these years and 18 tries, they had a chance to win a game. I was shaking with anxiety, feeling the weight of being a far-too-devoted-fan during such a long period of playoff futility.

I stood next to other parents waiting along the sidelines of the racecourse. Many parents were texting or chatting on their phones, but nobody was watching a baseball game.

My phone internet froze 14 times in that final inning. I counted. It seemed like the inning lasted 45 minutes. I was sweating and pacing and surely making everyone around me feel uncomfortable.

Finally… a slow hopper to first base and the Twins secured the third out. They’d won. Finally.

Now, for the past few months, I’ve been telling everyone who would listen that if the Twins won a single playoff game, I would celebrate like they’d won the World Series. That being said, I wanted to scream after the final out, but I also didn’t want to be removed from the venue.

Instead, I stood there pacing, holding back tears from behind my sunglasses. My phone lit up with messages from people who knew my pain, including old pal/Coeur d’Alene Press retiree Mike Patrick. That guy, being a Cubs fan, certainly knows what it feels like for your team to break a curse.

The game ended with my phone battery at one percent.

That stupid cross-country event didn’t start for another 30 minutes, by the way. I had to stand at the school for at least an hour before I could go somewhere and scream with excitement.

The kids competed in their race (finally) and everyone in the family eventually came together for a celebratory trip for treats at Dutch Bros. My phone somehow managed to record a couple videos of the kids running before shutting down, but don’t worry, I charged it in the car just long enough to show them highlights from the game.

For Game 2, I truly didn’t care about the outcome. They could’ve lost the series and I’d have been happy to lift the curse. I still totally ditched two afternoon/evening classes to watch the game… AND attend my daughter’s softball game. Remember: Two good reasons equals Excused Absence.

This was a much more relaxed experience, partly because the Twins already did the most significant thing of winning a game, and partly because I had familiar faces around me so I wouldn’t feel so awkward while making rambling comments to my phone.

I was told by my wife I might have been a little too boisterous during my daughter’s game. In my defense, I was cheering LOUDER for the girls on the ballfield. Nothing but positive energy for everyone, I guarantee.

When the Twins won that second game, I cheered a totally regular, not-distracting-at-all-amount. I watched another hour of my daughter’s game before heading to my evening class (Wednesdays are brutal), a place where I pretended to be professional while wearing a Byron Buxton jersey and Twins cap, and hollering “LET’S GOOOOOOO!” to anyone brave enough to acknowledge my attire.

While I didn’t get to watch every second of the games, I loved the way I experienced it. Rather than hunkering down in front of the TV at home, I got to cheer on my little athletes and watch them grow, learn, perform, succeed, fail and everything in-between (my cross-country kids aren’t exactly the fastest in the field). All that, plus getting to see a real-life curse finally lifted.

Because my kids love me, all four of them cheered extra when they learned the Twins’ historic losing streak had been broken, even though at least three of them understand nothing about baseball. The two youngest thought the Twins won the entire championship and not just two opening round games. I’m jealous of their ignorance.

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Tyler Wilson is a freelance writer, full-time student and parent to four kids, ages 6-12. He is tired. He can be reached at twilson@cdapress.com.