Deadline Detroit | Video: Lifelong Tigers fan speaks that he fails his Indian parents and how baseball saved his relationship with Mama

Podcaster Munich Jain, born Kalamazoo and a lifelong Detroit Tigers fan, tells a touching story in traverse city for the moth podcast about the shutdown of his parents – but not in their eyes – and how the baseball saved him from the depths of sadness while he had hit his relationship with his mother with his mother.

Jain, who is based in New York and has co-moderator in a podcast called Clubhouse, tells his inspiring story that begins like this:

My parents come from India. In our house, this meant a high bar for academic achievements and a certain kind of professional success: doctor, lawyer, engineer. When my sister was 12 years old, she knew that she would become a doctor like my father.

When I was nine years old, I called a family seat to let everyone know that I would never become a doctor or lawyer or an engineer. I would be a gymnast. My parents, they tolerated it, told me that one day I had to grow out of it. But I went to the gym six days a week, five hours in the evening. And when I was a teenager, I trained for the Olympic Games. Then several injuries ended my career. My people, they said: “Okay, you got it out of your system. Now it's time to concentrate on your training.”

I needed her to be impressed by me the way you were my sister. I couldn't wrap my head on her way. So I had a bigger idea. When I was 19, I got a job at ESPN. I produced live segments for sports center, ESPN News and hung around with my sports idols. My people, they kept reminding me: “Don't let it stand in the way of your school work.”

He then started a successful sports magazine in Detroit. But that had his disadvantage. At the age of 24, the doctor told him that he was a heart attack for six months.

Either I had to get rid of or die the magazine. So I gave up. And something broke in me. And I couldn't face my parents. I took the money I had saved from ESPN and the magazine and ran away. I moved to New York in a tiny 160 square meter studio apartment, in which the windows didn't even open, and my self-imposed exile began. Slowly lose contact with every person I had ever met.

The delivery man simply left the meal outside of my apartment because I couldn't even make eye contact with him. I was a failure.

Then saved him baseball. Listen to his story below.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mpbbvjdvonym