Dad and baseball
Opening Day is so big to me, though, that Bud Selig can't completely ruin it for me.
I love baseball. I love baseball to the point where it's a sickness. I'm fascinated by the hit-and-run, HBP and diving stops in the hole. I've visited the Baseball Hall of Fame four times. One of those times was my honeymoon (and yes, I'm still married to the same woman).
I played baseball versus Jason Tincher in my backyard. One-on-one. Wood bat. Tennis ball. At first we'd use frisbees or pieces of wood as bases; it only took one summer to never need bases again. The spots on the ground were so worn out that grass didn't grow again until I was in high school and the "Doug v Jason" battles were long gone because we were Bellbrook High School Varsity baseball teammates.
There were 4 baseball trips I took with college buddies across the country. Most family vacations I would talk Dad into going to a game that was in the town we were staying. I've been to 14 Major League Parks while only going to 4 NFL stadiums and 2 NBA arenas.
It was my father who taught me to love the game by his love for me. It was growing up and realizing that my family didn't have much money but there was always enough for a trip to Riverfront to watch the Reds. Sure, we sat 5 rows from the top. Every time I said, "Let's sit in the Blue Seats," which was code for field level seats, my Dad would say that's where the people sat that came to be seen while we sat in the seats for the people that came to see the game.
I love my Dad.
I love my daughters.
We love this game.