For the first time in 108 years, the Chicago Cubs have won the World Series as of last night. For those of you who know me, you know that a) I don’t give a sh*t about sports, and b) I especially hate baseball. I think it’s one of the most boring sports on earth. The only reason I am writing about baseball tonight is that the World Series enthusiasm reminds me of the few baseball games I have been to where I actually enjoyed myself (whether I paid attention the whole time is another story), all games where I never paid for my tickets. And then I remember how mad my brother got at me the one time I went to a San Francisco Giants game at the expense of a company I was interning at during college, and he couldn’t believe I would go to a game with my company and not with him.

“It’s different!” I insisted to him. “The company’s paying for it, so I don’t have to spend anything on it! If we went, we’d actually have to pay.” (I’m still a cheap Asian at heart. Our parents taught me well.. or maybe not).

“That’s not the point!” Ed yelled back. “You’re willing to go with your colleagues but not with me! Who cares about the money — I could pay for it!”

I explained to him that it had nothing to do with my colleagues vs. him; it had to do with paying for tickets and not paying for tickets, but Ed would not have it. His feelings were hurt, and I felt bad and had to say I was sorry. He didn’t talk to me for a few days and said I was being selfish.

I look back and really regret always declining every time he asked if I wanted to go to a baseball game with him. Ed never had real friends, so he would go to a game only if our cousins went with him or if I went, or if the occasional church semi-friend went. And I always declined, completely forgetting his “circle” of people was so small, and that if I declined, it meant he may not be able to go and enjoy these experiences at all. All Ed wanted was someone to spend time with to have these experiences, and I denied that to him. Sometimes, I really hate remembering all the little things I could have done to have made his life better. There’s nothing left to do now. And remembering and then regretting doesn’t make me feel better.