Spring showers bring baseball flowers. Baseball time equals happy time. It started just over a week ago and will last until the leaves change to orange and brown. Baseball is more than just a change in weather, and an outdoor activity, it’s an association with memories.
I am very fond of the days in my youth when I would attend baseball games with my family. Living a short drive away from Qualcomm Stadium, we were all about the Padres. From the age of 6, I attended anywhere from 2-5 games a year. I always looked forward to it. I would get so excited every time my parents would select a game for us to attend. Would we see the Dodgers? Or Cardinals? Or Braves? God, I loved the Braves. Greg Maddux, Tom Glavine, Denny Neagle, and John Smoltz were the beasts of 90s pitching. Whenever they played the Padres, it was a dream matchup. I miss those days. They will never be forgotten.
My parents really spoiled me in this way. While many of my friends were lucky even to see both of their parents together once a week, I was fortunate enough to have two very involved parents who were not only around all the time, but liked to take me to ball games! For this, I am truly blessed. Not saying they took me to every baseball game when I wanted to go, but they were at least there to do it. It was all in the name of love. Even to this day, my parents don’t care about what event we attend, they just want to spend time together. I’m sure I took this for granted at the time, but as I become an old man I appreciate it. Whenever I’d feel embarrassed about their good parenting, they’d say things like, “you’ll see what it’s like when you have kids.” Fingers crossed that doesn’t happen soon, but I like the sentiment.
Emotionally, the sport carries a lot of weight for me. Every game I see, takes me back to my childhood days of running the bases through our living room. Yep, I would run along with the game on tv, trying to mimic every leadoff move and steal attempt. Usually, this would coincide with my parents laughing at me in the background as I ran circles around them. They loved it, even if I almost knocked over the occasional lamp. But that’s what parents are for, right? Unconditional love despite significant financial setbacks for 18 years (at least) of their lives. But like we say about baseball, ‘this is why we play the games.’ You may find that confusing, but it makes perfect sense to me.
Nowadays, I don’t watch games nearly as much as I used to, but I’m still reminded of my childhood every time I do. It makes me want to give my parents a call and thank them. I think I’ll go do that now. Bye…