A Tribute to My Best Friend - June 29, 2008

No, this is not a tribute to Dale or Sean. Sorry fellas, maybe some other time. This is a tribute to the greatest person I've ever known in my life, who three years ago last Sunday left this world leaving what could very well be the biggest impact anyone's ever left on me. This person was my grandfather.

He was just a fun guy, everything he did. The kind of guy everyone knew, even if he didn't know them. I remember one day when I was really little, he and I went to a Wal-Mart to pick up some lawn care supplies, and he ran into this woman who he had a discussion with for a half hour. When I asked him who that was, his simple answer to me was "I wish I knew!" It was something he and I always would laugh about, even just casually bring up from left field.

He used to have a job for a couple years at TCF Bank on Archer, after he retired from trucking, and I always remember casual Wednesdays when he would wear these Hawaiian shirts. He used to try and do some kinda hula dance with it, and it always made my young six year old self laugh about it. After he retired, he and his friend Roger, who used to help mow my lawn in Chicago would just chill at the bank, and almost every day in the summer of 2003 and 2004 we'd go down there and talk sports. It was nice because I learned a LOT about the past history of football and baseball, things that to this day I remember, and really have a good use for knowing.

He was the biggest Cubs fan I'd ever known. He'd randomly spit out facts about this team hardly anyone would know, and the thing is, he wasn't making them up. He's what got me into baseball, insisting he watch the Cubs game before I got to watch Aladdin one day when I was five. That day got me hooked on the sport forever, and until the day he went he and I were talking baseball. Sometimes we'd go out for lunch, stay in the place for hours after we ate because we always talked so passionately about it, and sometimes pissed off casual eaters with our volume. I remember the last day I saw him on this earth, he was watching the Braves / Reds game on TBS, I think it was Father's Day 2005. He and I watched it together, since the Cubs were on in the evening and we couldn't watch that. The outcome wasn't the desired one, but nevertheless, it's a game I will never forget.

I spazz out when the Cubs screw something up, yes. I have a short fuse with this team. But I got that from him. He endured seventy-five years of losing, and his anger towards a loss, a bad trade, a poor performance by a player clearly rubbed off on me. I scream, I get pissed when things go wrong. But I do it because I got it from him, the passion, the love of the game. I remember in '98 when Brant Brown dropped the routine fly ball in left to prevent our Wild Card berth. I was doing basic first grade homework at the time next to him, and we both stood up and just flipped out. It was a BAD scene. We'd end up ranting about how awful the bullpen was (all the time), how big of a mistake Nomar Garciaparra was, how much Alex Gonzalez ruined our chances in the 2003 postseason (screw Bartman, it was Gonzo's fault).

Sox fans, don't give me too much flack for being a Cubs fan. Because of this, I take it on a very personal level.

He taught me everything I needed to know about the game, both historically and playing it as well. He taught me how to hit, catch, all that stuff. Every day we'd go into the backyard and play catch, sometimes go to Vitumn Park and hit. And for a guy in his seventies, he could HIT, and he had an arm on him, and he didn't go easy on me because I was ten years old. Let's face it, the guy was a monster.

Summer 2004 was a tremendous memory. My parents would work, so he'd come and pick up my sister and I (who at the time only lived three miles away), he'd drop off my sister with my grandma, and he and I would go to Dunkin' Donuts and the bank just to hang out and talk sports. After that, we'd go home, read the paper (all I'd read is the sports section), go get lunch, come back, and typically watch a Cubs game the rest of the afternoon, ranting and raving, depending on what was happening, of course.

Man did this guy have a sense of humor. He'd always tell strange jokes, always watch comedy shows, even questioned everyone's comedic ability on "Whose Line is it Anyway?" which was my favorite show at the time. He thought it was scripted. Certainly was a straight-shooter and told it like it was. And that's just a small example. He'd do politics, sports, television, anything. And it got humorous after awhile. He was definitely as old school as it got, but somehow managed to conform to modern society well enough to allow me to enjoy myself when I was with him. I remember one day he was having a fight with my grandma and left for awhile. He came home and when I asked where he was, he said he was "just getting a haircut." Funniest thing is, he DID get a haircut. Even though he was pissed and left the house for a few hours.

Funny thing is, according to my grandmother, he wasn't always like this. He drank, he got into arguments, stuff of that nature. He changed when I was born, which says a whole lot about what I've done for him. Shit, he smoked, but because of my asthma condition, he always had the courtesy to step outside, until he went cold turkey in 2000. Unlike some "grandparents" of mine who GAVE me my asthma condition. He did a lot for me, sometimes I regret that I could never fully return the favor for him, because I end up feeling as if I somehow took advantage of his kindness. That sense of remorse usually comes after the death of a loved one, right? He knows I'd have made up for all of that if I had the chance. If he just had a few more years on this earth, I'd have probably done things for him to return the favor. Sadly, I never had that chance.

I've been having dreams about him lately. He just randomly shows up in them, and the most bizarre thing is I KNOW he's passed on, even in the dream, but he's there, and I often wonder what he was doing there. In one dream, it was Christmas and the family was together, and I marveled at the fact that he was in my prescence but had no clue WHY he was there. It was a nice dream, because there were conversations just like old times. But it was just strange. Last night I had a dream I was watching the Cubs game in his kitchen with him, feeling the same sense of confusion as I did before. We were watching the Rangers (for whatever reason) beat the Cubs 14-1 in the third inning, and Ted Lilly get rocked (due to recent events in Cubs games, should I really be surprised?). He and I were screaming at how bad it was. Just like old times. Then I woke up, wondering why I'm having these dreams.

It's simple. I miss the guy. When my dad wasn't there for me in the past, who was? My grandfather. Since his passing three years ago, my uncle took over his role. No, you can NEVER fill that guy's shoes, no matter who it is. But he's doing better than anyone could doing so. We go places, we do fun stuff, we just get out and enjoy ourselves, something I can't do around here. Shit, he and I are going up to Milwaukee later in July to see the Brewers. That's just a tiny example of what he's done for me these past three years, and I couldn't be more thankful that he's done that.

But my grandfather was the ultimate, and he's really missed. But, it's the cycle of life, these things happen. I get mellow around this time of the year because I remember what happened three years ago. If he just had a few more years on this earth, we'd be able to talk about the Cubs in first, the latest Cubs losses, the Presidential race (I'm more into politics than I was in 2004), how corrupt Chicago and Illinois government is, stuff like that. And I'd be able to return the favor of the things he'd done for me. Regardless, he knows I would have, and that's all that matters. A few of my friends who knew him will tell you how outstanding of a guy he was, and know I'm not just talkin' bullshit here.

I'll see him again someday, definitely. I just hope it's later rather than sooner. I want to get the most out of my life while I have it and make the same impact on any children I have that he had on me. He always supported my decision to want to be a sports journalist and always wanted me to take advantage of it, which is why I intend on living that dream. For him. And he'll get a special nod from me someday in an article in the future.

Grandpa's probably having a Budweiser with Harry Caray right now, watching me as I type this. If that's the case, here's to ya! I miss you, and we'll meet again someday, whether it be in my dreams or in the big house in the sky. I just know it'll be a moment I'll always remember.

RIP Dan Biskoski (June 14, 1930 - June 22, 2005). We love you and miss you down here!

-Zach