Keith here, wallowing in the shame of my story. Let’s just jump back into it.
When I showed up to work utterly wasted that was the final straw for them. It was a small town, so they tried to overlook it, they understood I was going through a lot, and at least I was getting the job done. But I showed up at work so drunk I couldn’t stand straight and got into a fight with a manager.
Yes, I punched my manager in the jaw, and yes he pressed charges.
The cops shoved me in the drunk tank to sleep it off and withdrawal set in soon enough. I was crying and shaking and begging for a drink. I was charged with assault. That’s when everyone finally had to acknowledge my problem, including me.
My mom bailed me out of course because she loved me and had nobody else. But we had a talk. She let me sleep it off and drink it off. I thought I was being secretive drinking in my room, but I know without a doubt that she knew what I was doing. What was she supposed to do, snatch it out of my hands? Crippled or not I was still six feet and stronger than her and definitely drunk.
The next morning she sat down on my bed, woke me up softly, and told me I needed to shape up or get out.
We were both crying, obviously. She didn’t want to make this decision but she couldn’t stand watching me kill myself like this, not when she’d already had to lose so much.
She spoke honestly with me.
“You’re dad never would have wanted this for you. He would never have wanted you to suffer like this just because you lost him.”
“Yes, and baseball. You are so much more than that though, and you always have been. You are an amazing and wonderful boy who deserves the world. But you can’t get that if you keep suffering like this if you keep boxing yourself in.”
That’s enough emotion, for now, guys, we’ll get to it next time.