Mom, I’ll take Steam Whistle

Just about every angle of my sports fandom can be attributed back to my mom, and none more directly than my unique following of the Toronto Blue Jays. Outside of the Miami Dolphins and Miami Hurricanes it’s the most tenured … and by far the most provoking.

It’s the question I’ve most been ask over the past 30 years, at all times of year and in many different life situations from Army basic training to a routine oil change to an Ocean City party bus and even a hospital baby delivery room.

And to be honest, I’ve always enjoyed answering each time.

“How did you become a Blue Jays fan?”

It makes sense. I get it. Why would a boy growing up in southern Pennsylvania within a sharp grounder away from three Major League teams be a Blue Jays fan? Simple. My mom.

Those who knew her know she loved few things more than watching sports. This was a blessing to a son. Much of my earliest memories are of sporting events on TV, including the 1985 American League Championship Series.

My mom’s love for baseball began with Eddie Matthews continued with George Brett and ended with Chipper Jones. Each a third baseman, and each a Hall of Fame player. She had an eye for talent.

I’m not sure why the ALCS the year before involving the Kansas City Royals and Detroit Tigers didn’t capture my attention – especially with a hometown connection in Tom Brookens playing – but it didn’t. A year later, those Toronto Blue Jays did.

I as a soon-to-be 8-year-old can still remember the pregame festivities of Game 1, seeing the energy of Toronto’s Exhibition Stadium with the parading onto the field, ecstatic fans and those cool uniforms. It’s my first vivid memory of MLB, sandwiched between images of football and college basketball.

Adding to the fact the Blue Jays were born the same year I was … I was hooked. Well, my petulant attitude in rooting against my mom was a significant factor too.

As history played out, my mom won in the end. She was even rewarded with a World Series championship, following the same three games to one rally that spelled the end to my Jays. I stuck with them, and it paid off a few years later. Even the ridiculous harassment I took in junior high school for being an American traitor was worth it.

Unfortunately, my mom didn’t live to see her Royals reach postseason again. Actually she tuned them out once Brett retired and coincidently discovered Chipper. And … I’m not sure Mike Moustakas would have garnered the same infatuation.

In fact, Josh Donaldson just might have swung my mom full circle. That would have been nice. When the Blue Jays clinched the AL East division championship I actually flinched, expecting a phone call from mom congratulating me on a long, patient wait to see them again in October.

It’s been 12 years, and I still do that. Mom was always good about that, checking in when my teams did well even though they weren’t her teams. And it’s been awhile since my teams warranted a phone call … with the exception of the Duke Blue Devils.

A few weeks later, when it worked out the Blue Jays would match up with the Royals in the ALCS it was magical … a perfect 30 years after it all began for me. Mom was famous for wagering a six-pack of soda on series and playoff games. I’d think by now I’ve graduated to a six-pack of beer. Now, with the Blue Jays facing the same 0-2 deficit mom’s Royals did in 1985, knowing how this is supposed to play out … I like my odds.

Mom, I’ll take Steam Whistle.

— Jaime North