I’m probably going to be taking a couple days off. My grandfather passed away yesterday evening. It wasn’t unexpected. He was 92, and had a host of issues from Cancer, to heart issues and well,  just being old.

I’ll be sitting shiva, being with family and generally be in a frame of mind that won’t be able to give Pitt much priority.

The good news is that I’m living forever. My 6-year old daughter told me so at dinner as we were struggling with a good way to explain what was going on. So, I’ve got that going for me.t

I was very lucky growing up. My grandfather spent about half his time living near me and half in NYC for business. It meant spending at least a couple weeks every summer staying with him in NYC.

My grandfather had a huge influence on my love of sports. He took me to the first baseball game I can really remember (I know I went to other Yankee and Phillies games, but no real memories to speak of). It was a Rangers-Yankees game when I was 10. I remember walking in the dimly lit bowels of Yankee Stadium, and then emerging through one of the tunnels to see the bright green of the grass, the white chalk against the dirt. We had seats down the 3d baseline and could stare right at Graig Nettles and Buddy Bell. He was teaching me about how to score a game. Something I still love doing to this day whenever I go to a game.

He took me to buy my favorite baseball glove. I needed to replace a little pipsqueak of a glove that I hated. He took me to a Herman’s Sporting Goods, and with the patience that only comes from being a grandfather, waited while I took nearly an hour sorting through the bins of gloves. Trying to pick out the one that was just what I wanted. I suspect he wandered over to the golf section after a while, but he never forced me to just make a choice. I finally made a call, and in hindsight Iknow how ridiculously oversized it was for a 10-year old. He never said a word. He bought some baseballs and glove oil. When we got back to his apartment, he showed me how to work the oil in and where to put the balls before lashing it tight and for the next couple weeks it was in-between the mattress and box springs of my bed.

Then there were the Knicks. He loved the Knicks. Even in the last couple years, and as bad as they were (and god, he hated Isiah Thomas) he never missed watching them on TV. Unlike the Yankees, he couldn’t bring me around on them. He taught me about basketball, even if he didn’t care much about the college game.

The one thing I regret is that he couldn’t get me to learn to play golf, growing up. That was the thing he truly enjoyed doing. He tried teaching me, but in that he just didn’t have the patience in that matter. It didn’t help that I didn’t have the interest. Never a good pairing. By the time I came around to playing, he was no longer able to go out to play.

Even in the past year as his health and his mind started fading, he still was able to focus on sports. So when we would talk it would often focus on those matters. Always something for us to share.

I’m going to miss him.