This year marks the first time that I have watched the World Series without the company of my father. To some this may be a trivial fact to point out, but in the Podair household, and in my life, it represents an important, yet bittersweet moment.My dad and I have a nice father and son relationship; however, when it comes to baseball it is truly special. No matter what problems or issues I have had with my dad, baseball has always been present as a calming equalizer of sorts. I’ve known that my dad and I could always “talk baseball” and with that common ground alone, I knew everything would be all right.

The 1990 World Series between the Cincinnati Reds and the Oakland Athletics was the first World Series that I ever watched with my father. I was eight and remember being unable to stay up for the entire game, as it was past my normal third-grade bedtime.

Ever since that World Series, an annual tradition has developed between my dad and I to watch the World Series every year, together and in its entirety. We kept up this tradition until I started college and the 2000 World Series between the New York Yankees and the New York Mets was played. I was able to watch game one of the series with my dad; however, I had to return to school for the rest of the series.

Watching the majority of the 2000 Series at college was a bittersweet moment for me, as I felt that without my dad’s company, I could not truly partake in watching the World Series. I realized that I had grown up, and part of not being at home anymore was losing what I loved about being home, which was family time and watching baseball with my dad.

However this World Series of 2001 between the New York Yankees and the Arizona Diamondbacks is the first World Series that I have not viewed at least partially with my father and this has been difficult for me.

Honestly, for me watching baseball without my father makes me feel incomplete somehow. Over the summer as I participated in the Cadre program and stayed on campus for most of the summer, I recall watching the All-Star Game with a few friends. It was an interesting contest, but after a few innings I was saddened that my dad was not there watching with me, so I left the room.

I spoke with my mom, a few days after the All Star Game and she told me that my dad too was unable to watch the game for long and would not say why. I became choked up after what she said and came as close to crying as I have in several years. It took that moment for me to realize the intrinsic connection that I share with my dad and with the game that we both love and love together.

My dad and I have never talked about the connection that we have together, as for him to express his true feelings to me seems like an impossibility. I think that perhaps the best things are unsaid between people. Despite this I plan on watching at least one game of next year’s World Series at home in my den, with its pictures of baseball greats Stan Musial and its lithographs of the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York and of course my father sprawled out on the floor even though we have ample places to sit.

I’m not sure if we’ll talk about how much we love watching baseball together, but I’m sure that watching the Series with him will fill a certain hole in me that was empty this year. I always want him to fill that hole for me and I know that even though he will never say it, he too feels just the same.