This is a story about love. It’s a story about being seen and understood. It’s a story about anniversaries, beautiful and difficult. It is a story about a Shohei Ohtani jersey.
I grew up a Cincinnati Reds fan. I went to games, had bobbleheads of the players, and autographs. I met Tony Pérez, Johnny Bench, Lee May and Pete Rose. My Aunt Lee and Uncle Bill, true Reds Rooters, took photos of us with the players. For years, they went to spring training in Florida to watch the preseason games. Johnny Bench was my favorite. After the Pete Rose scandal, my love for them and baseball waned.
But it was a blast following the Minnesota Twins when I lived in Minnesota. Kent Hrbek, Tom Brunansky, and Kirby Puckett were my faves then. Even though the Twins lost more than they won, it was fun to go to their games. And often we got free tickets to the next game because there were so many open seats.
After I moved to Nevada, then Kansas, I didn’t think much about professional baseball. I chalked my dwindling interest up to something I loved when I was a kid, but had outgrown. My sisters, my brother, and I grew up playing softball and baseball, first in the field behind our house, then in city leagues and high school. Baseball was in our blood.
Then came breast cancer in 2024 – having to stay in a hotel in Brea, California for six weeks after my surgery in May, and returning for four weeks following my reconstruction surgery in October. Breast cancer led me back to baseball. On my first night out after the second surgery, Andrew and I went to Yard House in Brea. We were seated on the patio at a comfy booth, surrounded by huge television screens, all showing preparation for the playoff game. I had forgotten it was playoff and World Series season.
As we watched, I became captivated by the Los Angeles Dodgers, and Shohei Ohtani in particular. Even though it was my first night out, we stayed for the whole game. I just couldn’t leave. What caught my attention first was Shohei’s demeanor during the pre-game interviews. I can’t even remember what he talked about now. I just remember that I really liked him. Then watching him and the rest of the Dodgers, especially Freddie Freeman and Mookie Betts play reawakened my love for baseball. I was hooked! Not the crazy excited hooked of my youth, but a calmer, gentler hooked.
I don’t know if I’ve ever shared this part. I proposed to Andrew at a lantern festival in front of my daughter and her love (now my son-in-law), on April 27, 2024. On my lantern, I wrote the question. “Will you marry me?” and handed it to Andrew to read. He nodded, laughing. It took less than a beat for him to say yes. “Yes?”, I asked. “Yes. Of course.”, he said. “Well hug her or something…” my daughter said. He did. The most lovely hug and kiss. “Yes, of course I will” he repeated. Neither of us ever thought we would get married again. We had known each other for 12 years at that point and our relationship had built slowly and deeply over time. We had chosen, step-by-step to build a life together.
I had already made arrangements for us to get married by a Justice of the Peace a week later. I proposed out of love. I proposed out of optimism. I chose the date for our marriage, May 6, my best friend‘s birthday, and two days before my cancer surgery. I wanted to be fully myself when I committed whatever was left of my life to this wonderful man. I wanted to make that commitment in strength, unsure of how long we would have together.
On Mother’s Day 2026, 2 days after the 2nd anniversary of my cancer surgery and 4 days after our 2nd wedding anniversary, my husband gifted me a white LA Dodgers home jersey with Ohtani’s name and number. It was perfect! As a gift, it carried so much. It carried the memory of the reemergence of my love for baseball. It carried understanding and acknowledgement of the incredibly painful and beautiful journey we had been on together. It was a reminder of shifting my gaze from within, as I navigated recovery, to looking outward again, grounded in the present and hope in the future. I cherish it. When I wear it, I am wrapped in my husband‘s love and acknowledgment of the past, the present, and our future together.
Deborah's Deliberations 