Tonight I was watching a Cubs vs. Mariners baseball game with my dad. We reminisced about a time our family went to Silver Stadium to watch a game and dad took a line drive right to his chest. The ushers came running over to check on him and I was thinking that my dad, he lives for this game, and he certainly isn’t hurt from an AAA team. Just like in the movie Sandlot baseball was a good chunk of summer life. Mom even umpired girls softball and I went on to umpire little league games.
This year I got to thinking about the game, The memorabilia that people try so hard to acquire with authenticity, the scams and the insane amount of money people will pay for someone’s signature. When my mom passed away, I kept a bag that a sub came in she wrote my name on. Then I thought about dad and I. He taught me the game, he coached and managed teams for my brother and me, and now we enjoy a game on the television and have been to a couple Red Wing Games and a Baltimore game. Baseball has always been the game of his house. So a couple of months ago I went and purchased an official MLB baseball. The $25 may have seemed like a lot, but really it’s a drop in the bucket. I brought it home and showed it to dad. I asked him when he sat down to write out the bills for the month if he could autograph the ball for me.
That autograph will mean more to me for the rest of my life than any pro in the history of the game. If you like baseball, ask yourself if someone put your favorite player of all time autographed ball in one hand, and your dad’s in the other, which would you choose? It was very easy for me.