I love baseball. I love baseball history and studying statistics and arguing about awards and superlatives. I've always loved watching baseball too. I love watching the Little League World Series, the College World Series, the minors and the majors. For the last year or so my love of watching the game had taken a dip. My love of statistics and history hadn't, but I didn't enjoy the actual games as much as I had.
I'm sure part of this had to do with our season tickets to the Saints. Sometimes, I felt like we were obligated to go, that it was a waste not to go since the tickets we paid for. The long homestands felt like going to work. The team wasn't as enjoyable to watch and even the thrill of front row seats had lost a little of its appeal. It was also frustrating to never get to see more than 2 or 3 innings because of PeanutBuddy's bedtime. I was prepared for a similar experience this summer since PB's bedtime is still early and 6's bedtime is earlier.
Last night changed that. I never intended to make this a blog about being a dad, but last night PB reminded me of all the reasons I love watching baseball and I enjoyed the game more than I have in years. His excitement about everything was infectious. He sang along with the national anthem (despite not knowing the words). He was so intense and worked up about everything that he was shaking and almost in tears. (in a good way). He was calling balls and strikes - "striiiiiiiiiiiiiiiike ooooonnnneee!!!!!". He was excited about the batters in the on deck circle "left handed batter is next". He was excited about a throwing error "EEEEEEEEE 5" and a single to center field "hIt tha bawol". He reminded me of all the little things that make baseball exciting and fun. I loved sitting next to him and teaching him and talking to him and sharing the experience with him. I'm amazed that he can sit and pay attention for so long.
For the first time in a couple of years I really loved baseball.
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