My late father (passed in February of 2006) had a brief stint as a sports reporter before family came along and ruined everything (lol). His column was called SPORTS WHIRLED, by Al Smedley - published in The Upper Darby News (Upper Darby, PA). Not sure why today of all days, but I'm missing him badly ... and thought I would share as well as store this story, he wrote in the mid-50's Love you Pops!:
Babe Didrickson Zaharias' valiant battle against cancer brings to mind another-
completely unpublicized-struggle of a woman who started out as a less-talented Babe-
type athlete, but who never lost her love for sports.
As a high school student this woman was a star girls basketball player. In the days
when games were being decided by scores like 10-8 or 9-4, she was regarded as
something of a phenomenal scorer when she once bucketed eight points in a single game.
She also played guard, and her coach told her she stuck as close to her opponent
as "fly-paper".
This woman also was a fine swimmer, who prided herself on her swimming and diving
ability.
But, unlike the Babe, who went on to bigger and better performances in practically
every sport, this woman met a man when she was only 18.
She married him.
A year later their first child was born-a son.
That marked the end of her active sports career.
But she never lost her interest in sports of all kinds.
When her son grew up, he became a football player for the home town high school.
His number one rooter, naturally, was his mother.
In fact, she was such an ardent fan, the son was sometimes a little embarrassed.
Everyone within shouting distance of her knew that number 26 plowing through the line
or backing it up was "my son."
She was not above a little second-guessing either-when she felt the coach didn't
play "my son" long enough or in the right spots.
Perhaps her proudest moment came when her son was given honorable mention on an all-
star football team.
She clipped the story out of the local newspaper, and, believe it or not, it was
practically worn out in a couple weeks.
She pulled the story out of her purse as often as most women pull out their lipstick.
She was a baseball fan, too, and through some quirk of her personality, she fell hard
for the Philadelphia Athletics.
Her son was a Phillies' man, but she couldn't switch her loyalty-no matter how hard
he tried.
Once, she talked him into taking her to see the A's in action.
It was the first-and last-time this National League man corrupted himself.
After six innings, the A's (as uaual) were losing to Cleveland. Heavy showers hit
the field and after about a 45 minute wait, the son talked her into going home-
feeling certain the game would be called.
When their car reached City Line Ave. the son switched on the radio just in time to
hear Sam Shapman hit a grand-slam homer to win the game for the A's.
It was a long time before he got over the effects of that particular ear-banging.
In later years, she developed a slight interest in the ponies-which never exceeded an
occasional $2 bet on some nag with a "pretty name".
Strangely enough, she won more often than not, and got the greatest kick out of
watching the races on television.
She also was a TV baseball, basketball and football fan.
Then suddenly, a pain in her back in a few frightening weeks turned into cancer-the
same type of cancer plaguing Babe Zaharias. She felt she shared a little something
in common and was rooting hard for the Babe to pull through.
She's the type of person a big league umpire would have liked.
When the doctors gave her the bad news-certain death-she didn't carry on and complain
about the call.
They had called three strikes on her just like that, but she took it with a smile and
went back to sit on the bench and wait for the end of the game.
It came-as it must to all people-but not quickly and easily as her children had hoped.
It was a slow, drawn-out extra-inning affair that took a lot out of her.
Yet, a few days before her death, and despite the fact her voice had dwindled off to
a mere whisper, her first question when her son came back from the Little League
State tournament at Williamsport was: "Did you win the championship?"
When told that Upper Darby had indeed won the state title, she smiled.
A few days later she was dead.
She died as she lived, loving sports and abiding by the rules of the game.
I can vouch for that you see,
She was my mother.
