Morgan Kleiderlein’s dad caught a Giants World Series ball, and it set a whole series of life changes in motion.
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Over the past few years, I’ve realized that life is not an isolated series of meaningless events but, rather, a long-form journey of tiny – albeit important – steps that have completely changed my perspective on tragedy, triumph, and everything in between. This doesn’t always give me comfort when life is falling apart, it does give me perspective and hope knowing that can be a reason and purpose for everything.
Now, I periodically retrace my life steps and marvel at the fact that sometimes one small, seemingly insignificant incident could change the course of my life. In all of this, I’ve discovered that there is peace in reflecting on past events and understanding how those weave together to create the bigger story.
Five years ago, I was working in Santa Monica and lived in a tiny, toaster-sized apartment close to the beach. If you had asked me if I’d ever leave, I’d tell you that I’d eventually head north to be closer to family, but I was in no rush to make the decision. Now, I live in an (even smaller) apartment in San Francisco with a dog that is nearly the size of my living room. I live closer to family, but my life journey looks completely different than any map I could have drawn.
When the San Francisco Giants unexpectedly went to the World Series in 2010, my dad called me with an offer to go to the first game with him. In a Hail Mary attempt, Dad chose Game 1 of the World Series in the postseason ticket draft. We barely expected the Giants to do anything that year (no offense to my favorite team), so the World Series selection was fairly ostentatious but, to our surprise, it worked.
On game night, I could barely contain my nerves. We were located just up the first base line, near home plate – 35 rows back. In the third inning, Andres Torres hit a foul ball that came right towards my dad. He reached up and snatched the ball – his first ever – and proudly showed everyone his new treasure. I had two reactions to this: the nice side of me was excited that he now had a gold embossed “World Series” ball, while the not-so-nice side was more than a little envious that the ball wasn’t coming home with me.
Next up to bat was Freddy Sanchez. He also hit a foul ball right at us, and Dad reached up to make the catch. The ball tipped off the top of his glove, hit the gentleman behind me in the eye, and fell down right next to me where I simply reached out and picked it up. I briefly thought about giving it to the guy behind me (who was now bleeding), but my sympathy evaporated as soon as I saw that he was wearing a soccer jersey to the World Series. I picked up MY new treasure and flashed a smile at my dad as we both said, “What are the odds?” Little did we know that this would set off a series of actions that would change my life.
Immediately, our neighbors took notice—including the group of Navy aviators who had just done the flyover during the National Anthem. During the course of the conversation, my dad invited them all out for drinks after the game. After the game, Dad went home because he was tired, but a friend and I met the crew at the bar. One aviator, in particular, caught my attention. We exchanged information, went on a date a week later and dated for a while after.
During my time with him, I also got to know his dog, Lucy, who was a 100lb lab/Newfoundland mix who was about as lazy and sweet as can be. After we broke up, he received orders to Japan, so he was no longer able to keep her. With permission from my landlord, I stepped in to adopt her. Shortly before I was supposed to pick her up, my landlord informed me that I was no longer able to take the dog due to an issue with another tenant. Around the same time, I was also informed that my company wanted me to move to Miami, or my employment would be terminated at the end of the year.
Given that Miami is on my not-top-10 list of places to live, I found myself both soon to be unemployed, and soon to have a large animal whose adoption would render me homeless. I made the decision to move to San Francisco shortly after, and that journey would begin what has been the hardest three years of my life. Being closer to my family during this time was the lifeline that I needed to survive, and it all started with a couple of foul balls and a large, lazy animal.
Now, as I feel the axis of my life shift again, I can look forward with excitement because I can also look back on isolated events over the past few years and see the bigger story. I often chuckle at the connectedness and importance of each individual part because, without one piece, my story would be so different. No detail is insignificant. Everything works together to tell a greater story, and we can walk forward in joy because we know that a small shift can create the momentum towards something bigger and more beautiful than each of the individual parts.
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