Take Me Out To My 1st Baseball Game

2 years, 6 months.

Dear Jack,

On Mother’s Day, Mommy and I took you to your very first baseball game. Coincidentally, the Nashville Sounds (our family’s home team) was playing the Sacramento River Cats (Mommy’s hometown team).

I almost have to use the word “miraculous” here to describe how long you lasted: You watched the game for 30 whole minutes!

Mommy and I were so impressed that as a 2 and a half year-old, you were able to pay attention to the game without wanting to get out of your seat for that long.

Seriously, you watched the game for 30 straight minutes!

Though, I should admit, you were due for a nap. So your drowsiness was countered by the fact that a real baseball game was going on right in front of you.

Not to mention, Ozzy, the mascot for the Nashville Sounds, came by to visit all the kids in the bleachers.

I’m pretty sure I actually convinced you that we had just visited him in the zoo the day before.

You didn’t really question why a giant cat who was creeping along the ground one day at the zoo, would be so friendly, walking upright and in uniform, and so happy to meet you the very next day.

But you rolled with it.

Then, you realized there was a whole stadium to explore. You were mesmerized (!) by the “tractors” (glorified golf carts) you found.

Mommy and I literally had to snap you out of your gaze on them:

“Jack? Jack! Let’s go…”.

And so you did. You discovered that the ramp of the deck served as a great “hill” for your red Hot Wheels car to race down.

Interestingly, that was the first toy car we ever bought you, exactly a year ago.

Now you have like 53 of them; many of which currently serve as the crushable cars for your monster trucks.

Mommy and I secured both ends of the ramp to make sure you didn’t escape us in all your excitement.

As for your “sock giraffe” that I bought Mommy on our honeymoon in New Hampshire nearly five years ago, you felt it was necessary he shared every adventure of the baseball game with you.

Along the way, you caught the attention of a sweet older man who was running the ticket gate:

“Hang on, little guy. I think I have something for you in the back.”

He handed you an official baseball that the Nashville Sounds had used for their practice.

As seen in the picture of you holding the ball, you were a bit confused on why you were getting a free gift that didn’t come wrapped in plastic or that didn’t require a trip to Target.

Or involve you earning it by going potty.

But again, you rolled with it.

I was thinking today about this. Something I really miss, as a 32 year-old man, is experiencing a version of life where everything is new and exciting and mysterious.

As for you, the kid, the boy wonder, you get to wake up to new adventures every day.

Dinosaurs are real.

A big cat lives in the zoo but serves as a baseball team’s mascot on the side.

Your imagination has no limits because the universe is truly magical.

I miss that.

It’s funny how these thoughts can stem from a baseball game.

I suppose that’s part of the reason that baseball games are so intertwined with American tradition and nostalgia.

Watching a baseball game at a stadium is like being taken through a portal where life seems both completely familiar yet completely brand new.

Maybe some would say it’s just a baseball game.

I have a feeling you understand where I’m coming from on this one.

Oh, and needless to say, you slept the whole way home… next to your baseball, of course.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

P.S. To see more pictures of your first baseball game, go to The Dadabase Facebook page and click on the picture folder, Zoo and Baseball 2013.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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