As far back as I can remember baseball was a staple in my home. My dad is definitely a fan. He taught me the game and even coached my softball team in middle school.
One of my favorite memories of baseball came in the fall of 1984...I remember it like it was yesterday. I was proudly wearing my signed Alan Trammel jersey and the old English D cap. My dad and I sat together on our comfy 70's orange and brown couch watching the 19" TV with no remote control--except me when I turned the knob and bunny ears to get the channel just right (benefit of being an only child...who says we are spoiled?). I sat there proudly with my papa and saw history being made as the Tigers won the World Series.
We jumped with pure joy when we clinched the title..."Champions." We heard our neighbors screams of delight and all ran outside to celebrate together with the sounds of fireworks in the distance. My city was united, my father and I were bonding, and my neighbors became family that night.
Since then it has become a Father's Day tradition to take my "old man" (who is only 59 years young) out to the ball game.
We spend about three hours in our beautiful Comerica Ballpark, shelling peanuts, eating stadium dogs, and taking in the sights of the D in the background. And just being...daddy and daughter! With an occasional wave and a joyous rendition of the classic 7th inning stretch..."Take me out to the ballgame." These are special moments and I cherish them more each and every year!
Baseball is tied to my youth, my dad, and my city. Yes...Baseball is an American tradition but it is also a great analogy of the human spirit...and that belongs to everyone!