First Baseball Game
The Dude attended his first baseball game yesterday (Sunday). Boppa had some very nice seats so the Hobbled Runner and son joined him to watch the Twins beat the Chicago Cubs 8 – 1.
Sunday was a great day for proponents of outdoor baseball, but three guys named John sat inside the Metrodome, in the second deck right behind home plate safe from the sun's harmful rays. The Dude stuck it out the entire game. Boppa very patiently explained the game to the Dude, who seemed to "get it" as well as any 6 year old could. A splendid time was had by all.
Classic exchange:
You can't fool a six year old.
First baseball game with my son. I know I should be more sentimental – but it's not in me. I realize that many boys /men (and some girls/women) are very nostalgic about their first baseball game. It's often spun into some folksy yarn about fathers and sons – and how it was the first time they ever connected with their dad – or how those memories are now the best memories of their childhood, etc.
My Dad never took me to a baseball game. I don't resent it at all. It would have been very unnatural for my father to take me to a baseball game. He and my Mom attended Twins games after he retired, but I never went to one with him. To his credit, my father never forced me to play sports and I never played little league baseball. In fact, I never played any organized sport until junior high when I went out for cross-country. Once I became active in sports, my father was at almost every cross country and track meet. Those are my sentimental father/son sports memories.
Back to baseball - - I recall my first game – must have been about 11 years old, and my Mom "dropped us off" at the old Met Stadium – parents did that "back then". The Twins played the Chicago White Sox. It was a rather dull afternoon game – but that's all I recall - it may have rained out - - I'm not certain.
Sunday was a great day for proponents of outdoor baseball, but three guys named John sat inside the Metrodome, in the second deck right behind home plate safe from the sun's harmful rays. The Dude stuck it out the entire game. Boppa very patiently explained the game to the Dude, who seemed to "get it" as well as any 6 year old could. A splendid time was had by all.
Classic exchange:
Dude: "How do they grow grass in here?"
Dad: "It's not real grass, it's artificial turf."
Dude: "Oh, you mean it's fake."
You can't fool a six year old.
First baseball game with my son. I know I should be more sentimental – but it's not in me. I realize that many boys /men (and some girls/women) are very nostalgic about their first baseball game. It's often spun into some folksy yarn about fathers and sons – and how it was the first time they ever connected with their dad – or how those memories are now the best memories of their childhood, etc.
My Dad never took me to a baseball game. I don't resent it at all. It would have been very unnatural for my father to take me to a baseball game. He and my Mom attended Twins games after he retired, but I never went to one with him. To his credit, my father never forced me to play sports and I never played little league baseball. In fact, I never played any organized sport until junior high when I went out for cross-country. Once I became active in sports, my father was at almost every cross country and track meet. Those are my sentimental father/son sports memories.
Back to baseball - - I recall my first game – must have been about 11 years old, and my Mom "dropped us off" at the old Met Stadium – parents did that "back then". The Twins played the Chicago White Sox. It was a rather dull afternoon game – but that's all I recall - it may have rained out - - I'm not certain.
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