Before I fell in love with shoes, vodka tonics, expensive sheets, Air Kiss lip gloss, or any guy ever, I fell in love with baseball. I came by it naturally as my dad was a left-handed pitcher who was drafted when he was 17 years old. As a little girl, I often felt guilty that I wasn't a boy and therefore, couldn't play baseball and be like my dad. I also remember watching baseball games on tv with my dad when I was young and trying desperately to remember his explanation of a balk or the many reason astroturf was evil. My dad never went to the majors because at 17, you can't sign a contract without parental consent and his parents wouldn't sign. They wanted him to go to college instead. During a college game, my dad was pitching and was hit in the hand with a line drive. The ball hit between his middle and ring fingers on his left hand and split it all the way to his palm. He never really pitched again. As long as he lives, this will be his biggest regret. He still loves the game but I swear, I can see the "I wonder what could have been" in his eyes whenever we watch a game.
When I was 16, he took me to my first major league game. Growing up in Colorado, we didn't even have a major league team until that time. Somehow, my dad managed to land tickets to the Rockies home opener. He could have taken any business associate or friend of his, but he took his 16 year-old daughter. It meant the world to me and for as long as I live it will be one of the best days of my life. We sat on the third baseline, roughly 20 rows up. It was a gorgeous April day and I still remember the number of people in attendance - 80,227. The Rockies were playing at Mile High at the time because Coors Field wasn't even built yet. My dad bought me a program and some peanuts as we headed to our seats. I remember grinning ear to ear as the teams took batting practice. I remember getting the chills as Kenny Loggins sang the national anthem. And I remember jumping up and down and giving my dad high fives as Eric Young hit a home run during his first at bat. I always knew I liked baseball but that day at the game, I fell in love. If you're not a baseball fan, this all seems like sentimental crap but if you love baseball, you absolutely get it.
I'm fortunate to work for a company which has excellent seats at Coors Field so on Monday, I went to Opening Day. It was another gorgeous day in April but my dad wasn't there, I'm now old enough to have a beer, the Rockies play at Coors Field and there certainly weren't 80,227 people in attendance. It was a great day and I had so much fun but there was a part of me that wished my dad was there too because the game is so fun to watch with someone who loves it the way you do. Like all parents, my dad isn't perfect and frankly, there are things about him that drive me nuts, but I am hard pressed to think of a better way to spend a summer afternoon than sititng in the Rock Pile with my dad, drinking a Coors Light and catching a game.
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