COMMENTARY : Where would sports be without mothers?
Posted on Sunday, May 11, 2008
They are behind the home runs, stolen bases and strikeouts. Behind the touchdowns, dunks, assists, goals and medals.
They are at the root of each display of sportsmanship, each act of charity, every gracious signing of an autograph.
Mothers and their surrogates did the carrying, the holding and the supporting. Still do. Always will.
They are all over the sports landscape, sometimes invisible but always present. We see them through their children.
We see Frank Gore’s late mother, Liz Gore, whenever the San Francisco 49 ers ’ running back smashes through the defense, breaking tackles, stubbornly refusing to go down without a vigorous fight.
We feel Dontrelle Willis’ mother, Joyce Harris, every time the Detroit Tigers pitcher, a product of Bay Area playgrounds, lights up the room with his exuberance.
We know Eric Chavez’s mother, Ruby Chavez, used to pitch batting practice to her little boy and still is willing to provide the Oakland A’s third baseman with hitting advice.
We can hear Donovan McNabb’s mother, Wilma Charlene McNabb, cofounder of the NFL Mother’s Association, reminding the Philadelphia Eagles quarterback to eat right.
We greet Eddie DeBartolo’s fondness for his late mother, Marie, every time we pull up to 49 ers headquarters — Marie P. DeBartolo Centre — in Santa Clara.
We saw Stephen Curry’s mother, Sonya Curry, on her feet, trying to will in jump shots for the Davidson junior during the NCAA Tournament, then sobbing with joy as they swished through the net.
We thank Gary Payton’s mother, Annie Payton, for being among the 23 mothers who 11 years ago collectively founded Mothers of Pro Basketball Players.
We feel the loving embrace of Barret Robbins’ late mother, Kaye Robbins, in the uncontrollable wailing of the 325-pound lineman when he was told the doctors at the hospital did all they could for her.
We know Jerome Bettis’ mother, Gladys, was with him every step of his career, from attending his high-school games with his asthma inhaler in her purse, to walking him from NFL team hotels to the team bus before games.
We have evidence that Cheryl Ford’s mother, Bonita Ford, did a marvelous job raising the child who became a WNBA star — because Cheryl’s birth father, retired NBA star Karl Malone, did not appear until she was all grown up.
We wonder if Mike Bibby’s mother, Virginia Bibby, provided a blueprint for Bonita, having been responsible for Mike’s development in the absence of his father, Henry ?
We are pleased to note Charles Woodson recently pledged $ 150, 000 for scholarships at the University of Michigan, in the name of his mother, Georgia, available to incoming freshmen from select cities, one of which is Oakland.
We assume the late Nell Wooden was a fabulous mother because her children continue to love her as much as her husband, the legendary UCLA coach John, of whom it is he lives for her memory.
We see Jimmy Rollins’ mother, Gigi Rollins, in everything the Philadelphia Phillies shortstop does, from the gaptoothed grin to the strut to the crisp allegiance to being all he can be.
Did we experience that before, with Rickey Henderson, who channeled his mother, Bobbie, with every flash of his grin, every pirouette out of the batter’s box before circling the bases and every run scored without benefit of a hit ?
We are fortunate to witness the wonder that is Tiger Woods, whose mother, Kultida, is a walking reminder that crossing cultures can provide unique inspiration.
We can feel the wisdom and charm of Olivia Manning, who married her own quarterback, Archie, yet was most responsible for raising sons, including Peyton and Eli, who make her proud.
We believe Candice Wiggins’ mother, Angela Wiggins, is exceedingly remarkable because in the wake of losing her troubled husband, baseball’s Alan Wiggins, she alone raised a daughter who grew up to be as gracious as any highprofile college athlete in the country.
We know Kevin Johnson’s mother, Georgia West, because everything she stands for is embodied by her principled and ambitious son, the former NBA star with unlimited kindness of spirit — and the next mayor of Sacramento.
We hardly know Greg Reed, the brilliant Canadian 800-meter runner, but we hear his mother, the redoubtable Mary Reed, fixed him with the dedication and perseverance that likely will send him to Beijing this summer.
We thank Nick Swisher for dyeing his hair pink Sunday to express his devotion to fighting cancer, which three years ago claimed the life of his grandmother, Betty Lorraine Swisher, who raised the Chicago White Sox outfielder after his parents divorced.
We owe a debt of gratitude to Mallie McGriff Robinson, whose husband left her with five children, the youngest an ambitious and courageous 6-month-old named Jackie, who spent adulthood urging the world to continue evolving.
We are blessed to have had on this earth Odessa Grady Clay, whose son Cassius, now Muhammad Ali, accepted the torch from Jackie.
We see them, hear them, feel them, know them. Love them.
Tradition dictates today’s 24 hours are for Mother. Tradition, in this regard, is woefully inadequate.
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