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ON MAY 14, 1939, Lena Feller traveled to ComiskeyPark in Chicago to watch her famous son pitch for

the Indians. In the third inning on that Sunday, Bob Fellerthrew a fastball that Marv Owen of the White Sox steeredfoul, toward the seats above the visitors’ dugout, where itstruck Lena squarely in the face, blackening both eyes. Whileshe was carried from the grandstand, rushed to the ER andstitched up like the missile that hit her, Bob Feller remainedin the game. It was Mother’s Day, after all, and that’s whatMom would have wanted, were she in any condition to speak.

It should be said that Lena made a full recovery, butnot before she was photographed in repose in MercyHospital, her head wreathed in bandages, her eyes likeKung Fu Panda and her 20-year-old son standing at herbedside, wearing an expression of mild embarrassment.It’s an enduring image not just of Mother’s Day, but ofmotherhood. A cartoon thought balloon above her wouldeither say, “I do and I do and I do for you, Robert, and thisis the thanks I get,” or, “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay, dear—Ihope you got the win.” (He did, going the distance.)

Pride and guilt, pain and sacrifice, embarrassment andlove—these are the bonding agents of the mother-and-child union. Muhammad Ali described his mom, OdessaGrady Clay, to one of his biographers, Thomas Hauser, as acollection of postwar ideals. “She’s a sweet, fat, wonderfulwoman who loves to cook, eat, make clothes and be withfamily,” Ali said. “She doesn’t drink, smoke, meddle inother people’s business or bother anyone, and there’s no onewho’s been better to me my whole life.”

And while there is an infinite variety of mom-styles,every mother, living or dead, has in common the unerringability to make her presence felt—out of leftfield, or abovethe visitor’s dugout—at the least expected moments.

Asked a routine question about whom he leans on when theClippers face difficult times, coach Doc Rivers choked up ina press conference in the opening round of the NBA playoffs.“Made me think about my mom,” he said of the late BettyeRivers, tears welling. “That would have been the person.”

While accepting his NBA MVP award in 2014, Kevin

Durant memorably spoke to his mom,Wanda Pratt. “The odds were stackedagainst us, a single parent with twoboys by the time you were 21 yearsold. . . ,” he said. “You made us believe,you kept us off the street, put clotheson our backs, food on the table. Whenyou didn’t eat, you made sure weate, you went to sleep hungry, yousacrificed for us, you’re the real MVP.”If it sounds like a Lifetime movie—TheReal MVP—it is about to becomeexactly that.

Just as you can hate the sin and lovethe sinner, moms can hate the balland love the baller. When a child says,“Look, Ma, no hands,” the loving mais required to look, no matter how oldthat child is. This was certainly true ofmy own mother, who dutifully read mybaseball stories in this magazine, hardlyher first choice of reading material,and died while I was on assignmentat Comiskey Park reporting a story onWhite Sox sluggers Bo Jackson andFrank Thomas, whose names still evokefor me what that Clippers questionevoked for Doc Rivers.

When absolutely necessary JaneRushin chased her four boys aroundthe house with a giveaway yardstickfrom Lattof Chevrolet, until it snappedover one of our backsides and shebegan to employ a wooden spoon. Herswings seldom landed and never hurt,but to spare her feelings, we didn’thave the heart to say so. Then one day,Mom was chasing my 6' 6" brotherJohn around the kitchen when hestopped, snatched the spoon from herhand and snapped it in two.

But the ritual had, unbeknownstto us, served its purpose. Afteryears of skillfully fleeing a would-beassailant brandishing a wooden stick,John earned a hockey scholarship toNotre Dame and was drafted by theRangers. It’s one more reason, in a seaof them, why no athlete ever looked ina camera and said, “Hi, Dad.” ±

The Real MVP B Y S T E V E RUSHIN

64 / SPORTS ILLUSTRATED / MAY 9, 2016

SPORTS ILLUSTRATED (ISSN 0038-822X) is published weekly, with an extra issue in February and skipped issues in January, February, April, July and August, by Time Inc. Principal Office: 225 Liberty Street, NewYork, NY 10281. Periodicals postage paid at New York, NY, and additional mailing offices. Canada Post Publications Mail Agreement No. 40110178. Return undeliverable Canada addresses through the UPM process:GST #888381621RT001. U.S. Subscriptions: $65 for one year. SUBSCRIBERS: If the postal service alerts us that your magazine is undeliverable, we have no further obligation unless we receive a corrected addresswithin two years. Your bank may provide updates to the card information we have on file. You may opt out of this service at any time. POSTMASTER: Send all UAA to CFS. See DMM 707.4.12.5. NON-POSTAL and MILITARYFACILITIES: send address corrections to Post Office Box 62120, Tampa, FL 33662-2120. MAILING LIST: We make a portion of our mailing list available to reputable firms. If you would prefer that we not include yourname, please call or write us. ©2016 TIME INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. REPRODUCTION IN WHOLE OR IN PART WITHOUT PERMISSION IS PROHIBITED. SPORTS ILLUSTRATED IS A REGISTERED TRADEMARK OF TIME INC.

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What areyour favoritememories ofyour mother?

Join thediscussionon Twitterby using

#SIPointAfterand following

@SteveRushin

There isan infinitevariety of

mom styles,but everymother,living or

dead, has incommon the

unerringability tomake herpresence

feltat the least

expectedmoments.

DA

MIA

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TR

OH

ME

YE

R

POINTAFTER

Every ball in this photo needs inspection.

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